


Knights of the Old Republic

by darkchocolatebrownie



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic
Genre: Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gun Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-06-18 12:19:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15485601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkchocolatebrownie/pseuds/darkchocolatebrownie
Summary: An homage to two things I love: KotOR and Dan Simmons' Hyperion Cantos. This is the story of the game KotOR told via a structure entirely inspired by the Hyperion series. Told from fem!Revan's point of view along with cameos of each of the main followers and their backgrounds as well. Character roster will be updated as the story progresses. Comments/Critiques welcome! (M for violence/graphic scenes to come)





	1. Prologue

The ship hums. Outside, stars pass us by in haste. Space gives way, sliding on around us. Lifeless, inanimate objects given qualities more lifelike than some people I've known. The stars twinkling off the viewport seem so far and yet so close in comparison to those on this tiny ship. Space gives way in absence of companionship. Stars pass by instead of laughter. The ship hums in lieu of the gentle breath of sleep.

We've grown so far apart these last few months. They're with me now, begrudgingly, as I go to face a danger even they cannot ignore and take back the only thing I was ever able to call my own.

Even if they would listen, I couldn't even begin to thank them - the men and women that have come with me all this way, even after they saw what they did. Even after they learned the truth.

Whether we live or die these next few weeks I know the galaxy will move on as it always has, unaware that once the fate of the galaxy balanced like a thin knife over a fine thread. I could explain why the fear and worry that grips my friends holds me tightly in its sway now too, but I always hated stories that told you what happened in the end and expected you to read on after. Besides, what better way to tell the story than from the beginning?

 

* * *

 

 

I think my quest began on a similar sleepless night, tossing and turning as I tried to force my eyes to close and sleep to come. The ship lurched unannounced, sending me rolling off the cot and onto the hard floor. Within seconds, alarms started blaring and voices called out the warning level over the comm system, switching between nine different languages. They all said the same thing: _The ship is breached. Evacuate immediately_.

Untangling myself from the blanket and standing up on shaky feet, I tilted my comlog to my face and called up the current ship schematics, bringing up a real-time holo of the ship we were on.

The Endar Spire was a hammerhead-class cruiser with a wide command post at one end and a tapered point at the other. From the real-time data pouring in I could see a large breach in the middle of the ship outlined in flashing red and a concerning number of growing red dots flashing on all sides.

Our ship was classified as a civilian ship even though every last one of the crew members were trained in combat. It seemed someone had leaked important information about the who we had on board.

Still, the hammerhead-class cruiser may have been listed as a civilian ship but it had shields that no low-end military cruiser could possibly take down. The red data showing a growing breach and a series of red dots gaining numbers by the second showed that the largest breach had been made in first contact.

We were not dealing with a low-end military vessel.

My heart began to pound as I pushed the data to the only screen in the tiny room, rushing to a corner where my locker was and yanking the comp-repair jumpsuit I wore as a uniform on.

I had debated slicing into the real-time tracking systems the Endar Spire used in case something like this were to happen but I'd decided against tapping into that data in case I was caught. The more channels I opened on my end the higher chance someone would notice the number of listening ports was not what it should be. A faint voice read aloud tactical data as I struggled to get my arm through a sleeve; it was not looking good for the Endar Spire.

Just as my head poked through the jumpsuit the security door hissed open, barely giving me enough time to call the comlog display off. I stood looking guilty as a man in orange-and-black engineering slacks burst into the room, but he didn't even glance at the screen above my head.

"Good, you're up! We need to leave now, most of the crew are already heading toward the escape pods. Come on!"

He could tell from my face that there was no recognition because he gestured wildly to himself with one hand, steadying what I now noticed as a blaster at the door with his other hand.

"My name is Trask Ulgo. You probably don't recognize me because we work opposite shifts. I'm your roommate."

He was right that I wouldn't recognize him. We shared the same room on off hours and I'd done my best to stay away from the room well before he'd arrive and well after he'd leave to avoid meeting him. All I'd really known about my roommate was a plaque below a plaque of my own name that read T. Ulgo and a plastic sheet carefully folded below the bed that I assumed he placed over the bed when he slept on it every shift. His presence was also in the fact that whenever I'd come into the room everything would be arranged just so — things I'd placed one way would always be changed, always facing the same direction. Precise to a degree. I'd started keeping things where I found them after that first week of noticing the interesting trend. I'd assumed T. Ulgo would have appreciated it at the very least.

Now he stood before me, having come back to save me for some reason before leaving a dying ship. I figured he'd needed something from the room to explain why he'd come all the way back here — engineering shift locations varied but they were mostly all well away from the rooming section we were in.

"Yevana Mar." He nodded impatiently and gestured for me to move quickly. I turned to stuff what little belongings I had in various pockets. "Thanks for coming back to get me," I threw over my shoulder, slipping a small short knife just long enough for a shady vendor to have called it a sword and priced it similarly into the belt hook on my jumpsuit.

He didn't grab anything as I stepped out into the hallway, following me with his gun trained on the door at the end as if he expected soldiers to burst through at any moment. They probably would, I realised.

"No need to mention it. It's what soldiers do. You probably didn't get much of that from your past."

I straightened and turned to look him in the eye. My new friend continued on, "What with being a smuggler and all, I'm honestly surprised you didn't run for it the first chance you got. Still, they saw something in you or they wouldn't have brought you in along with Bastila."

The name rang a bell. Bastila. Jedi. The only important passenger on our ship. Or so the Jedi said. "Where's she?" I asked, plowing past his blatant ignorance.

"With luck on an escape pod. If not, we have to find her." I didn't bother to hide the disapproval I felt and he frowned at me, "We — all of us — swore an oath to protect Bastila with our lives. That's you included. If she doesn't get out, neither do we."

I wanted to challenge this insane notion — sure I signed some contract to get out of going to prison but that didn't mean my life was now forfeit for some Jedi. A holo shimmered on the console beside us in the hallway into the pale blue face of a man warning the crew to head for the escape pods before I could say anything.

"Carth Onasi," my companion said needlessly, "If he says things are bad that means they're _bad_. Come, we should move out." He turned on his heel and headed to the security door at the far end of the hallway, and I took a deep breath to calm myself before following suit.

We followed the map downloaded to our comlogs and headed toward the escape pods. Our journey was largely quiet apart from the constant faint huff of breath as Trask and I jogged through empty corridors, stopping to check the pulse of fallen soldiers and see if any electrocuted droids could be repaired. We were stopped once or twice by fighters armoured in shiny chrome-coloured bodysuits with flexible black padding around their joints. They seemed to eat Trask's bullets without issue, but my knife had no trouble slicing through the black cloth when I was able to get close enough. Trask and I didn't need to know much to realise we were fighting trained warriors. They fought with an efficiency I'd never seen outside of an army, and moved together almost as a single unit.

It was down one of these corridors I met my first Sith — or so I thought at the time.

It is difficult to explain the fear one feels on first seeing something straight out of a children's ahorror book. Now, having faced so many Jedi — dark and light alike — it seems laughable that I once stood at the edge of a door, shaking in my boots as a man dressed in black and casually holding a glowing red blade approached me, ready to drop the knife and run at a moment's notice and leave my companion behind to an awful fate.

A woman bolted in from the right, and we saw a flash of green before they both turned into a blur of green and red. I could barely keep up with their movement unless I focused hard enough. I caught a glimpse of them in action. A green arc of a thrust to one side here, a red flash of a parry there.

At the last second I was able to see a glimpse of the man's face, teeth bared. He turned for a split second and stared at me, his eyes boring into me, narrowing in some sort of understanding, before the Jedi ran him through.

I know now why he looked at me that way, why his gaze set my skin crawling and my heart slowed, stuttering as though I'd been passed through a cryotank. I wonder often if he hadn't died — if he had come to me, awakened something within me at that point — would the memories have come back? Would knowing what — who — I was have changed this story forever? Would it have detailed the end of that poor engineer and the death of that brave pilot and headstrong Jedi passenger? Would entire planets have been razed, citizens forced under the power of whatever would have been awakened?

At the time I thought I was simply unlucky. That he'd caught wind of me even when I was trying to hide. Later I'd think he sensed what I could not — the Force, coursing through me like the blood in my veins. Now I wonder if he'd known something else. I wonder if he'd known the truth.

At that moment all I thought was how lucky we were that he was dead and we weren't. Trask and I sighed aloud in relief and started to move toward the Jedi. We were steps away when an explosion rocked the ship to the side. The movement sent us careening to the other side of the wall, bits of our clothing on fire. The Light Jedi didn't stand a chance. All we heard of her was a scream and a sickening thud.

The ship managed to use thrusters to almost properly right itself. We rolled back to the center. So did she. Or what was left of her.

A sob threatened to escape me but I settled for retching unceremoniously in the corner, dry heaving when that was done. Trask leaned over, steadying a hand on my shoulder.

"We all knew the risks," he started, gesturing back to the body, "Come, we should go."

I stood, gripping the wall tightly. The ship was just barely askew enough that we ended up walking down a slant to the door on the far end, reaching out to grab the wall to keep our balance.

I triggered the security override and the door acquiesced. We were in the command center, and several of those armoured bastards had their guns trained on us even as the door slid open. Trask and I rolled to opposite sides of the door. I slipped my hand into my makeshift bag as I did so, palming a frag grenade and flicking the detonate primer with my thumb. I raised my arm and tossed the grenade in an arc to the far end of the room. It would definitely fry the consoles but I didn't think we were going anywhere with this ship after all this.

The soldiers there fell unanimously. Trask shot a few rounds in front of him at the soldiers closest to us and tossed a grenade of his own at them. We peeked in and waited a few moments to make sure they were all gone.

After quickly rummaging through the bodies under Trask's distrustful eye, I picked up a few security spikes and one decent blast rifle I held out to Trask, who jerked his head to the side and made a disgusted noise. I shrugged and tucked the rifle near my knife after confirming the lock was on. No sense in dying for the sake of propriety.

Trask gave me a wide berth, eyeing me as we made our way through the ship, silent except for the alarms blaring intermittently. We finally came up to the corridor that led to the turbolifts and my heart felt like it would beat out of my chest with anxiety. "Almost there," Trask said grudgingly, as if even talking to me would acknowledge the fact that he was associating with a criminal. His voice was raw, as raw as my throat felt at that moment. We were both so close to the end and yet we knew that something terrible was waiting to happen to us on the other side of the turbolift-access door. At least, I did. We stood before the door for a moment before nodding at each other. I slammed my hand down on the controls several times until the door finally opened. Trask and I stumbled in, resting against a wall and trying to regain our breath.

The way was miraculously clear. I could feel my heart pounding but I sighed aloud in relief, making my way over to one of the access ports.

I felt something seconds before I heard the terrible hair-raising hum. The room went deathly cold and it seemed as though all the light around us had lost its saturation. I was already turning, ducking and dragging Trask down to the ground with me. Red flashed above us, at shoulder level.

Trask stared at me with open eyes and then pushed me. At first I thought he was pushing me away, off of him, but I realised he was aiming for a turbolift just to the left of us. It wouldn't take us directly to the access port but we'd be close enough that we could sprint down a few corridors and make it out. I started crawling for the exit.

Trask's weight shifted and suddenly he was yanked back. I slid forward on the smooth floor, my knees slamming uncomfortably on the ground while my fingers scrabbled for purchase as I tried to crawl across to the turbolift.

I entered and looked back, heaving as I tried to catch my breath. Trask was in the Dark Jedi's grip, but his gun was pointed at the man's face.

"Go!" He screamed, "I'll buy you some time."

I didn't hear him finish the sentence. I had keyed the lift to leave at his first insistence and I was rising when I heard the blade hum underneath the squeal of the turbolift doors closing and a scream under the rush of air as I was carried to one side of the ship.

My heart was beating wildly now. I could hear the lightsaber's hum near the turbolift, buzzing as if it was cutting into the access doors below me. I held tightly to the wall of the lift behind me, if only to keep myself from collapsing to the ground.

I couldn't think about Trask, and how I'd left him there. The turbolift slowed to a stop, but it jerked to one side slightly. Almost instantly I heard the hum of a lightsaber and a red light pierced through the bottom of the lift. I pawed at the controls and resorted to peeling the doors back with my own hands when it opened up onto the floor too slowly, too in-shock to even make a noise.

The floor disappeared underneath me just as I stepped out and a brilliant flash of red lit the lift. I scrambled for the other side, already out of breath and hearing the man's footsteps draw nearer. My foot caught on a crack in the floor and I almost tumbled down but I somehow managed to stay on my feet, racing past to the door in front of me. The blade hummed past me just as I ducked into the corridor and whizzed past again, returning to its master. He chuckled aloud in delight while I stayed there, shivering.

The corridor was darkly lit, illuminated mostly by the emergency generator lights that had switched on when the main power generator had been shot. At the end of the tunnel, two red lights blinked and rotated, sending a constant red beam sweeping across the floor in front of me. I could hear the man's breath, slow and meditative near the entrance to the tunnel. My hand, perched firmly against the wall in front of the tiny cubbyhole I'd hid in was shaking so badly I worried it would start tapping against the wall.

"If you come out now I'll make your death swift. You might not even feel pain, like your unfortunate friend."

My heart pounded in my chest and I curled the fingers of my outstretched hand into a fist.

"Come, now, I haven't got all-"

The dark-Jedi stepped back, stunned into silence. From my vantage point his jaw was slowly working as if he was gingerly testing to see that it wasn't broken from the punch I'd rounded the corner and given him, surprising even myself. His gaze narrowed and I felt terror closing around my throat, giving a physical substance to the pain and cruelty I felt leach from him. My throat was constricting but my feet still worked, I found out. Something seemed to curl around me, like a cold fog solidifying, and tried to lift me in the air.

I started to run, for a second it felt like I was caught motionless in air as the fog crowded my body and curled against my skin, stuffing my nose and throat with an almost unbearable chill. I took it for my own fear, shaking off the effect with great effort, like a bantha removing a fly with one great jerk of its head, until I felt my feet touch something solid. It felt like I was running in water but the second my first foot touched the ground nothing mattered anymore. I propelled myself forward every inch by straining with each step I made.

The corridor door was only two steps in front of me and then I was slamming into it, knocking on the panel to open the door as quickly as I could. It hissed open and I stumbled inside, finally screaming as I felt cold fingers grasp my elbow. I struck out hard, slamming my elbow back several times until I felt flesh give way and was able to pull away.

The hum of a lightsaber blade drew so close I was sure it had burned some of the hairs on my shin. I yelped and staggered toward the other side of the dark room, pushing myself up using the single long table as a handhold to keep myself from falling down.

" _Go through the door in front of you and stay well away from the console, I can buy you enough time to get in here._ "

Whether or not I have ever had what one could call a 'conventional conscience', I knew for sure that this voice, male and with the authority of a military commander, was not something I made up on my own head.

My comlog buzzed again as he repeated his message and I felt one last burst of energy hit me as I raced past the table to the last door, wheezing out loud.

Something grabbed my hair that must have come undone during my flight, but I had just gotten through the doors and shot the panel, overloading the circuits and forcing it to close almost instantly.

There was a buzz of electricity from the first room and I felt a rush of heat, the hair on my skin crackling as I was blasted to the other end of the second room just as the door snapped shut.

I blinked from my position on the floor, trying to muster up the will to lift my head. A familiar voice was swearing from the other side of the door. I lifted my wrist — it took all of my energy to even do that — and realised that my comlog had been fried and was now just displaying a blank screen before my arm fell to the ground with a thud.

The cursing stopped and I heard a knocking from the other side of the door. "Are you still there? Can you hear me? Answer me, damnit!" The last sentence was punctuated with a thud, rather like a fist hitting a door.

I opened my mouth to speak but nothing came out, I groaned instead, wheezing as my lungs slowly released what little air I had left. My fingers twitched and I found myself rolled over on my side, coughing loudly all of a sudden, the burst turning quickly into more gasps for air as I started to hyperventilate.

There was a thudding sound on the other side of the door that seemed to shake the floor beneath me. The coughing worsened as I expected my worst fear to happen. I was almost ready to find myself at the point-end of a lightsaber soon enough.

Instead the door on the other side of the room squealed open, a cool feminine voice coming to life across the comm system to state that emergency protocols had been breached in several alien languages as well as Basic. A man wedged himself between the two doors and leaned across to one side, shooting open one of the door panels and reaching in to yank out an assortment of wires, teeth grit from the strain of holding the door open. The panel system made a loud high pitched hum and the doors immediately snapped open, sending the man tumbling to the ground near me.

My coughing had stilled while I watched him enter, I slowly rolled to my right and onto my hands, trying to find some leverage to sit up. He was there beside me, arm around my shoulder, pulling me carefully into a sitting position.

"Thank the stars you're alright," he whispered, relieved, "I overloaded the console in the room behind you and fried that Dark Jedi to a crisp but then your comsignal went off and I was worried I'd killed you too."

He wrapped his hand around my wrist and turned it toward him, "Looks like it's fried is all. That can be fixed when we're off this ship. Can you walk, soldier?"

I finally spoke. Or, well, tried to. All I could manage was a groan. He shifted so that he was in my field of vision. I'd never met the man before but I knew his face — what little I could see of it, in the dim light — I was with Carth Onasi, the pilot that had spoken to us earlier.

"Come on, it's only a few steps away." He stood, pulling me up with him. I felt like I had enough strength to support myself but I clutched tightly to his shoulder as we made the first few tentative steps.

We made it to the threshold of the door and Carth touched the panel on the side, cursing aloud when nothing happened. I looked at him curiously and he gestured to the door, concern etched into the small lines on his face. "Door's jammed. I had to disable the controls on the other side to open it but I don't think we have time to rewire that whole thing."

I shifted slowly to face the panel on the escape pod side of the door, Carth twisting around to accommodate me. I let go of his shoulder and braced myself against the wall, one hand up to steady myself while the other one tapped a few codes into the panel. I was able to get the panel open while alarms blared around us and the comm system warned that life support would be shutting down in a few minutes. I hadn't even realised I'd let go of the wall to rewire the panel but by the time the panel dinged and I'd entered the security code it wanted, I'd almost forgotten my weariness.

The door squeaked shut and I turned to look at Carth staring at me in admiration. "Guess they knew what they were doing when they hired a smuggler on board," he said with an easy grin. I had opened my mouth to reply but stopped myself, noticing the difference in his stature with my roommate Trask. Carth was being appreciative.

I grinned back at him and finally spoke, my voice raw and barely able to hold above a whisper, "Let's get outta here."

 

* * *

 

I don't quite remember what happened on our trip down to Taris, the planet closest to our now scuttled ship. Taris was under Imperial blockade, but a planet is large and an escape pod quite small. We had a good chance of breaking atmosphere so long as we weren't targeted on our way out of the ship.

Carth and I settled into the pod, Carth keying in his code while jokingly admitting he wanted to know where I had gotten the security access codes to the Endar Spire. The air in the escape pod was fresh and cold, with an almost burnt quality as oxygen was pumped in through the life support.

We set off, and the view on the transparent end of our pod grew bright once the shadow of our dead ship had passed and the outline of Taris' hemisphere swirled into view.

We were midway when the shuttle jerked to the side and alarms began pinging.

There was no hole in the shuttle and the life support systems were on still, though I felt myself rise slowly as the small gravity generator hummed it's last before dying out on us. "It was a stray shot." I told Carth, steadying my hand on his shoulder as he turned to key in an evasive pattern. "An escape pod is an easy target for small fighters and we don't have any shields. If it was intentional we'd be dead." We were both rising to the ceiling. I'd stretched my body out so that I was resting afloat and Carth pulled away from the panel while he did the same.

"Makes sense," he muttered, pulling back the sleeve of his jacket and checking his comlog. "We've got 15 standard minutes until we land."

It may have been the hysteria and my brush with certain death earlier finally getting to me, or the almost pure oxygen targeted for humans being pumped in through the system, but I realised that with the emergency lights on in the ship the rest of the corridors had only been faintly illuminated. I'd seen Carth, memorised his face and the tiny stray piece of hair that had escaped the rest of his crew styled cut and dangled over his brow. But I hadn't noticed the brilliant orange jacket he'd been wearing until the light Taris reflected from its sun shone brilliantly into our escape pod.

It really was one of the most hideous things I'd ever seen. I began to chuckle and then when I couldn't stop, Carth's confused expression made me burst out in laughter.

He smiled wryly at some point, reaching out to steady me as the barely sentient navigation systems detected a piece of debris in front and shifted quickly to avoid it, sending us both careening against the pod ceiling. I could feel my tears well up around my eyes but with no gravity to pull it away it looked like I was seeing underwater.

I continued laughing until the escape pod jerked away again and Carth and I slammed into the ceiling once more, and then his confused look faded to concern as the light began to slip off of his face and my world plunged into darkness.


	2. The First Dream

_A woman walks toward me, hands outstretched. It feels like a dream. But there's something familiar about it I can't place. A recurring nightmare? Her face is all angles and points; a tiny nose above lips drawn into a frown over a chin that seems sketched out of two harsh lines that meet in a point. Her eyes are hooded, narrow and dark with anger now. A single, long hilt is held in both of her fists with a slender blade extending from both sides of the hilt. The blades are a pure yellow, like the light of a strong summer sun that works slowly to bleach long rows of grass. Her determination wavers; I can tell without doubt that_ **fear** _leeches from her in waves._  
  
_I don't know how I know this. Or why. Only that it does. Fear grips her like the jaws of a krayt dragon tight over its diminutive prey._  
  
_But the blades of her lightsaber are steadfast and strong._  
  
_She attacks, twin lines of light moving out in front of her. They swipe through me and for a moment I am transported elsewhere, to the side, watching a robed figure deftly fend off her attack and then for a moment I am in front of this woman, pushing each slice of her blade aside with little effort and nothing but tiny, barely noticeable, movements of my arms. The ship - yes, I'm on a ship, I understand now - lurches and suddenly we both tumble to the ground._

 

* * *

 

I woke up with what I can only assume was a strangled yell, grasping out with both hands to stop my tumble on a gigantic ship, only to find that the small room I was in now had a much better sense of gravity.  
  
I twisted right off the bed and onto the floor and struggled for a few minutes in the swathe of bedsheets I had inadvertently wrapped myself in.  
  
"Hey. Hey now, it's ok. You're awake ... whatever you saw was a dream. Hey, careful!"  
  
It took me a moment to realise the person knew me. Still struggling in the dim-wittedness of waking up after a deep sleep, I had barely registered the name as my own. It felt _wrong_ , like it wasn't _mine_ . I fought off the hands that tried to steady me for a moment, caught in the darkness of my unintended blanket fort. The voice — someone I recognized but whose name was just off the tip of my tongue — calmed me down somewhat. The hands that brushed me in an attempt to lift the blankets from my head didn't strike with the searing hot, uncaring cut of a lightsaber that my dream-addled brain was still expecting.  
  
I breathed a little easier and in a few minutes I had mostly unwrapped myself. A man stood before me with his face twisting as he tried very hard not to laugh.  
  
For some reason I found myself lacking that same humour.  
  
"How long was I out?" I asked, jumping to my feet. My head swam and I must have seemed like I was going to drop any second, but I waved away his helping hand immediately, holding my hand tightly over my mouth to quell the nausea I felt as the room moved.

His humour faded and he frowned, stepping closer as I fought to keep the room from swimming. “Do you know where you are? State your name and rank clearly, soldier.”

I took a deep breath. “Yevana Mar. No rank. I worked in maintenance. And you’re Carth Onasi, advisor to the Republic on the Endar Spire.” I had plowed through before he could ask anything else. I swallowed and repeated my previous question.

"Two days and a bit. You seemed fine except for a concussion that should be treated by now. I put some extra kolto in a pack for you and applied it as soon as I got here. Are you ok? How are you feeling?"  
  
My jaw dropped, "A few days? Where are we? What-"  
  
He answered slowly as I looked around, turning my head this way and that to take in the room.  
  
"How much do you remember? We were headed to Taris in that escape pod before you passed out. Well we uh, we made it. And not a moment too soon. Nav systems were down, the whole thing was burning up and I swear a few more minutes and it would've heated through the temperature seal too. Anyway. We crashed near here. You were unconscious so I didn't have any time to search the wreckage to see if there were other escape pods. Brought you right back here and then ... well ... hoped you would make it out alright."  
  
Hoped I would make it out alright. A part of me was seething at the circumstances — feeling _anger_ like that woman in my dream — but I couldn't fault him for any of this. That he had done what he had for a smuggler like me alone was probably more than I would've gotten from anyone else.

“Carth. I ... Honestly I don't know what would've happened to me if ..." My words trailed off as my thoughts took an unwanted turn. "Thanks for saving my life.”  
  
"I'm a soldier. It's what we do.” He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, clearly not used to this kind of exchange. “Well, it's just the two of us and you're up now. I think we should lay out a game plan."  
  
I squinted at him in the low light. The room was dimly lit but the strips of light growing across the bed and single chair from the slats covering the windows were sharpening the pain in my head as the room grew brighter. "'Just us two'? What happened to all the others?"  
  
Carth pulled up a chair that looked as if he'd been sleeping in it the last few days while I was unconscious. I felt a pang of guilt. He sat down and tapped his chin thoughtfully, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. A stray piece of his hair fell over his forehead and cast a shadow over his face.  
  
"Bastila had no way out but here. And there have been rumours of multiple pods crashing down on Taris so I'm thinking that a few of our crew survived. We should probably find Bastila first. Then the soldiers we can. Then find a way out of here."  
  
I stared at him for a moment, piecing the information together in my head. Again with this nonsense of finding a Jedi that could've held her own against an entire shipful of dark Jedi if she was anything like the stories. Remembering Trask Ulgo's response to my thoughts on this when we were trying to leave the Endar Spire, I voiced my confusion diplomatically. A hollow weight dropped in my stomach at the memory of the now-dead soldier and what he'd done to get me here. Even saying my concerns felt like I was betraying what he had stood — and fallen — for. But hurt as the thought might have, I've never put sentiment over pragmatism.

"Well she's a Jedi. Wouldn't she have found her way off-planet by now?"  
  
Carth shook his head, "They've put up a blockade since we landed. I don't think anything or anyone has gone out since the attack on the Endar Spire and I'm damn sure nothing will until they find Bastila.”  
  
"So shouldn't she come find us?"  
  
Carth chuckled and looked up at me from his seat. "Right now we need her help getting past that blockade. I doubt I could say the same for someone like her. No, if we want to leave this place in one piece we're gonna have to find her first. After all. She's our mission; not getting out of here."  
  
That last sentence felt more than a little like an admonishment. I raised an eyebrow. "Well. Fine. But that seems like a bad idea. We should at least be looking for the other soldiers. They might actually need our help."

"Look," Carth started, “We all knew the risk taking this job. Us? You? Me? Those soldiers? We're all expendable. Our mission was to get Bastila to her destination safely. And a minor setback like this is not gonna keep me from doing my job."  
  
I crossed the room and opened one of the horizontal blinds in the window a crack, blinking furiously at the daylight and gritting my teeth at the racket in my head. We were somewhere in a tall building, though I had no idea if we were near the top. I couldn't see anything resembling ground apart from a few indistinct shapes much lower down and a few spidery bridges that made their way between towers a bit lower than my level. Speeders and slightly larger personnelcraft sped by at different levels. From the tiny window of a silver speeder I could see a human passenger in the backseat angrily mouthing off the droid driver in the front, too intent on his problem to notice me. The light of Taris’ star shone brilliantly off the speeder’s reflective surface as it passed several meters in front of me.

A minor setback. This whole goddamn planet seemed a minor setback.

“Besides,” Carth leaned back in his chair and stretched. When I looked back at him he shot me a grin, unperturbed by the sliver of light falling on his face, “Let’s be honest. Taris is under an Imperial blockade. The only way we’re getting out of something like _that_ is with a Jedi. And I’d rather it be one of the good ones.”

I let go of the blinds and they rattled back into place as I turned and faced him down. But … in the end he had a fair point, and I could already tell this was going to be a pointless debate. I tried to calm my restless thoughts. Before I said anything more, I walked over to the third piece of furniture — a tiny table that stood against the wall and was packed with whatever Carth had managed to salvage from the escape pod — and rummaged through the packs. I found a tiny vial of kolto and fit it to a pack, hoping a small stim would help with the headache. A few minutes later I was breathing much easier. My head still hurt, but the pain had lessened. The pounding in my head had lightened to a gentle throb.

"Alright Carth. What do you want me to do?" I hoped my voice was as level as the effort I put into keeping it that way.  
  
Carth nodded, thinking about something, before answering thoughtfully. "Well, first thing, we gotta find out where she is. So we'll probably have to ask around. I heard rumours that an escape pod crashed in the Undercity somewhere. That might be a good place to start."  
  
"Undercity. Got it."  
  
"We could gather some intel here first, make some friends among the locals, if you think that will help our search any. I don't think the Sith would just let two offworlders anywhere without a little cajoling, and I heard they've got this place on lockdown."  
  
"You don't think they-"  
  
"No," he cut in, as if he'd gone over this conversation multiple times already. He probably had - in his head while I was unconscious. "If they caught Bastila that would be all over the news. She's something of a legend if you'll recall."  
  
"How could I forget," I muttered.  
  
"Anyway," Carth continued, "Point in the direction you want to go and we'll head out."  
  
"I think maybe we should look for some supplies-" I stopped mid sentence and turned to stare at Carth. "Wait, what do you mean 'point in the direction'? You're the superior officer here, not me. I mean,” I corrected myself, “I’m not even an officer. I worked in maintenance."  
  
Carth snorted and kept silent. As if that answered anything. The kolto had healed me up well enough but that nightmare had caused a rather large headache and I was slowly starting to lose my patience.  
  
Carth's eyes widened. "You can't be serious. Look. Fine. If it's some secret Jedi thing and you don't want to tell me that's fine. But let's not pretend who has the chain of command here."  
  
"Carth, what in the -"  
  
"You were a last minute signee. Just after the Jedi took over the mission and brought Bastila aboard. They all but forced you in there as well. Now," he held up his hand to forestall my outburst, "Fine. You don't trust me enough to tell me what it is." His expression; almost hurt, conveyed exactly what he thought about that, "But I know there's something going on here and you are in the thick of it. So. Even if I didn't get any direct orders from the Jedi, I'm going to assume that you are now in command."

That seemed a hell of an assumption to go on, especially knowing what I did from the other side. I'd had no interaction with the Jedi apart from discussing how I could get away with not having to sit in some prison for five years. I still wasn't even convinced the pale, balding old man — with the permanent sour expression that made it look like he was constantly smelling bantha waste — that offered me the gig _was_ a Jedi. The two women that accompanied him had been the only hint to his status, complete with audible gasps at some of the less-than-polite words and titles that may have been exchanged.

Sure, I had probably overreacted, and maybe “Master” was a more respectful descriptor than “asshole”, but even if I did remember seeing him with a lightsaber — which I didn’t — he had definitely _not_ mentioned anything about this. In fact, given the way my conversation had ended with that man he seemed more likely to recommend Carth throw me in jail if something bad happened on the Endar Spire, Bastila and the mission be damned.

I figured in the grand scheme of things, those particular details were not necessarily what Carth Onasi needed to hear three days after having been stranded with me on a planet under Imperial blockade.  
  
"Carth, you know why I'm here right?" I asked gently, "I was supposed to do time for a stupid mistake I made smuggling. I got caught. This is how I'm getting out of it. By doing service here. I don't think I'm qualified-"  
  
"As I said," he cut me off again, clearly frustrated that he wasn't being told the whole truth — _well, weren't we all —_ and shook his head. "You lead, I'll follow."  
  
I assume the timing didn't seem right to Carth. And now he thought I was just being silent because I didn't trust him. That was a good start. Alone on a planet and the one person I needed to trust was having his own trust issues.  
  
There was really only one way we could solve all this. I grabbed a small pouch that was laying in the corner and rummaged through it, hiding my tiny vibroblade and some credit chips within one of its openings.  
  
"Let's go find Bastila," I growled.


	3. Taris

Notes for a sketch of Taris:

_The trees on Taris are tall, gangly constructs that stretch up far into the sky and are made up of transparisteel and elitism. Bridges cross between tall buildings and large platforms connect bridges and buildings to centers of commerce where creatures from all areas of the galaxy mill about like fish in a pond. The large construct of buildings that surrounds the planet's surface, well above overfished oceans, is split into three sections that are separated by building height and creature class. In the Lower City, a wookie irritably pokes a large lizard-like creature after it pauses from pulling a large refuse cart filled with waste from the Upper City to rest for a moment. Around them, other aliens mill about disgruntled, wondering when the War will bring about another change to their way of life._

_Near a pristine white complex in the Upper City a little girl stands dumbstruck beside her mother at the edge of a spaceport field. A small ship marked for transport carries valuable food and medicine between the large battle-ready cruiser that looms above the planet like a winged beast waiting to catch its prey on the ground. The little girl screams as the ship takes off and tries to run forward. Both her and her weak mother are knocked to the ground by the ship's exhaust as it rises._

_Somewhere nearby, a guard laughs, chewing on a ration bar._


	4. Taris I: New Friends

The air in the Lower City was sweltering. I twisted the too-tight helmet I'd bought in a shop on Taris off my head and sucked in the tepid air with a grimace. The roar of a group of swoop bikes echoed around the tiny walls and the ceiling shook a little. There was a scattered clapping of hands as the swoop bikes rode by.

“I don't even think they can see the bikes, I think they just make noise whenever they hear the engines,” Carth muttered beside me. He was facing the other way, resting his back against the table, supported by his elbows and looking at the opposite wall. We were in an outdoor canteen of some sorts near a major swoop racing track. A few shouts sounded within the room and the roar of other bikes passed by again.

“I'm sure there's a screen somewhere,” I said absent-mindedly, fiddling with the glass of filtered water in front of me. It had been five days since we landed in Taris, and two since I had woken up. So far we'd managed to get access to the Lower City, and even that had been a pain.

Taris was one of those city constructs in the way that Coruscant and Nar Shaddaa were. We had been fortunate enough that our escape pod had landed somewhere at the top. Carth had brushed it aside but he'd apparently been a decent enough pilot to use what little sensors the escape pod had and crash in a remote area without breaking through the platform and falling to the lower levels. If that wasn't enough, it seems like he'd then carried me alone to the building we were currently staying in.

I figured that of all the people I'd could've been stuck with from the Endar Spire — and I'd met enough to make this an educated guess — I really lucked out with having Carth as my partner.

Malak's forces had been on ground before we had started exploring, and the soldiers kept a tight watch on civilians. We'd found out on our first day of looking around and digging for information on Bastila or the other Republic soldiers that only the Sith forces had access to the Lower City. Helpfully, the guard at the door had mistaken me for an off duty Sith because of my similar accent. He had berated me for my lack of conduct, but he'd specified I would get in if I had Sith armour. Carth had been busy trying to hold his laughter in but we had both heard enough to know what we needed to get through.

Finding armour hadn't been easy though. As we had left the City lift we'd noticed a group of seven or eight Sith walking out of a small pristine complex a few metres away from us. We made our way back in double time, shocked at finding the Sith base so quickly, taking multiple paths and fake turns before we were sure we weren't being followed. Then we lay out a careful elaborate plan to capture a Sith and take their armour from them. At the end of the day we were tired enough to call it quits.

Luck was thankfully on my side that night. Since we had no idea of our travel requirements, we had decided to save the soldier rations we had for when we actually didn't have a source of food. The two of us had wandered to the cantina on one of the commerce posts near our hideout to grab a quick bite to eat, sitting separately in an attempt to find any locals that may have been of help. I had taken a seat next to an off duty Sith who had initially thought me another recruit, then seemed more than pleased to find a ‘local’ willing to say more than two words to him. He suggested I come to a social his team was having - one so important and early some of his friends would even come in uniform and change there. He had also specified that I should bring any friends I had if they ‘look half as good as you’.

Carth and I both mourned the day we had wasted with our plan, but once we had decided to get the armour, he insisted we go together. I found an uninspired black dress in the Tarisian style and forced him to wear a similarly dark jacket instead of his obvious brilliant orange one from a kiosk in our building. The mission had taken a while as we waited for our newfound friends to have a progressively good time, but Carth and I had walked out of there victorious, with a bundle of Sith armour in my arms. We'd been fairly lucky that we only needed the one.

Once we had gotten into the Lower City, though, we were at a loss for what to do next. I'd hidden the Sith armour in a bag and stored it under my makeshift cloak to keep attention off us but we still had a long way to go to find Bastila. We'd canvassed the area and so far only found a few major spots to gather at where we could get some information.

“I'm guessing your past line of work must've had a lot of times like these,” Carth said, gesturing to the whole room.

“What, being a cargo pilot?” I asked innocently, “I guess I waited a lot in a ship. For the cargo to be loaded.”

Carth grinned, “You know what I mean.”

We'd been whiling away the time by swapping stories. Carth's had all been courageous tales of Republic soldier bravery and camaraderie. Mine were less … exciting. I'd vaguely mentioned my past and hinted that I'd had an accident that had left me concussed and taken away half of my memories. He thankfully didn't push.

“Well from what I do remember the wait was never this bad,” I acceded, “And none of it depended on me saving a Jedi off a Sith controlled planet. I bet you probably have some wild story about that,” I added jokingly.

“Actually…” He shrugged at my expression, “Technically he was a Padawan. Or _was_. I think his Masters framed him for something. We captured him at one point but he seemed to want to help us. Couldn't give him over to the Jedi in confidence so he uh, well,” he shot me a grin, “records say he 'escaped in the heat of battle’. I lost a post because of it but I would've let him go again in a heartbeat if I had to.” He leaned back comfortably, “You would've been impressed. All three of us — Republic, Jedi, Mandalorian — in one room. I'd elaborate but,” he made a faint dismissive gesture with his hand, “it's off-the-books mostly, you understand.”

“You've quite the interesting trove of stories for a simple Lieutenant, you know that? I didn't know you were such a rule breaker. What did he do? No wait,” I saw the look on his face, “I don't want to know do I?”

“It was complicated. I don't even know the whole story,” he twisted around to grab his own glass of filtered water and gulped down the last remaining bit. Three Rodians passed by our seats, running their digits over barely concealed blasters but otherwise ignoring us. “I just remember he was a good kid.”

“Carth Onasi, you really have a story for everything don't you?”

“Not all of them turn out so good,” he shrugged. “There was that one time …” his voice faltered at a loud noise and we both turned to look at the commotion happening near the back wall.

“I said, get your kriffing hands off me!”

The Twi'lek couldn't have been more than fifteen. The Rodians that had passed us were surrounding her. Two Rodians were flanking her while a third stopped in front of her, much too close for comfort.

“Get away from her.” Carth was standing, gun out and pointing at the Rodian in the front, but the words had been mine. My grip tightened around something and I realised that I was standing beside Carth, holding out a tiny knife from one of the dishes we’d ordered. If it was good enough for whatever rubbery animal they referred to as Tarisian Bantha, then it would be good enough for the Rodian.

“I don't know how much you like your teeth,” Carth added, “but I'd suggest moving back if you don't want to be picking them up off the floor.”

The Rodian turned to examine us and snarled out in Rodese, “They'll pay extra for more females. Let's make quick work of this one and get out of here.”

“Oh you're not going anywhere, laser brain! My friend’s gonna make quick work out of you.” I winced as the Twi'lek snapped at the Rodian, turning his attention back on her once more.

The Rodian turned again to size us up and then shoved the glowing end of an electroblade close to the girl's neck. “The human male can't do anything without hands,” he replied, snarling a quick order at his companions.

The Twi'lek seemed more relaxed than most would've been in that position. I trusted that Carth had control of the other two and moved forward, closer to the girl.

“Oh,” she said leisurely, making a show of checking her nails from the light of the blade against her neck. “They're not the friends you have to worry about.”

I almost thought for a minute that she'd been hit with some terrible plague that had taken her senses away. I started to run to her in case the Rodian got any ideas, but before I could move something clanged against the wall behind the two of them. A large mass stood up in the shadows and walked forward slowly. My jaw dropped at the sight. A Wookie stood at least chest-to-head taller than both the Twi'lek and the Rodian. He growled casually and the first Rodian dropped his blade.

The Twi'lek wasn't done. She whipped around, grabbing a tray off the table and slamming it hard against the Rodian’s face. Food and other things flew past in its wake.

The two other Rodians, confused, struggled to decide whether to continue on after us or to go back and help their friend. Carth shot the gun out of the hand of the one who had turned back to aim at the Wookie while I switched direction and ran the last few steps to overpower the other one, twisting his arm around and forcing him to his knees while the Wookie grabbed the first Rodian by its head and lifted it up to stare him in the face.

The Wookie growled and the Rodian screamed. All three of them were screaming now. The canteen was deserted, the rest of the customers having left at the first sign of trouble.

“Z, tell 'em what Rodians taste like.”

The Wookie growled something back that definitely sounded more like, “I'd appreciate it if you didn't spread those lies where idiots like this will believe it,” but the Twi'lek translated it as, “Wow, like greasy tach just off the fire! Well, now I'm salivating. Whaddaya say we grab one of 'em for tonight?” She put her hands on her hips, “You don't think they'll last well in cryo do you? That one-” she pointed at the one I held tightly, “-looks like he's got enough meat to last a few days at least.”

The Rodian in the Wookie’s hands started crying in between his screams, while the two Rodians near us started babbling at each other that they had to ditch their unfortunate leader and go. The Rodian who's hand Carth had shot got up and ran out to the distress of his fellow companions. Carth stood near me and kept his gun trained on the door.

The Twi'lek sighed dramatically and raised both hands. “You know what, I just forgot. My brother? He's a big time crime lord down in these parts. Well he's got a real big dinner party today that I promised I'd go to and I'm not gonna be hungry after that for sure, so I'll cut you a deal. You get outta here in less than thirty seconds and I won't chase you down and cut you into nice little chunks to fill up my cryostorage.” She had picked up the electroblade and was now brandishing it in front of her. She nodded at the Wookie and he released the Rodian who took off without a second glance at us. The one I held squirmed but I let him go too after a few seconds.

The Twi'lek grinned up at me as Carth and I walked over to her, Carth still keeping his gun trained in the direction the Rodians had fled. She was short, with sky blue skin right to the tips of her lekku. “Wow, you actually stopped and fought. No one's ever done that before, have they Z?” The Wookie growled a no. The little girl held out a hand wrapped in a dusty fingerless glove. “Well thanks to you Big Z didn't have to splatter Rodian brains all over the wall. Hey,” she shrugged at my shocked look, “it happens more often than you think.

“I'm Mission Vao and this big hulking shower clog here is Zaalbar. But I just call him Big Z or Z for short. 'Cause he's Z and he's big. Anyway thanks for your help.” She said all this in rapid succession while we shook hands. It took me a few moments to register that she was waiting for my reply. “I am Yevana Mar. This is my friend Carth Onasi,” I said. Carth seemed vaguely surprised at shaking her hand like an adult but he did so with grace.

“You're not from here are you? Most of your kind don't really come by the Lower City. Have you been quarantined by the Sith here? They've been here long enough to get on even my nerves. And they sure are making the swoop gangs mad. That no good piece of Rodian waste works for one of the lesser gangs here in the City. He don't scare me. It's the others you gotta watch. You must've run into them already. The Black Vulkars and the Hidden Beks.”

“No, we haven't really started looking around here,” Carth said. “You seem to know a lot Mission, you been on the streets with, uh, Zaalbar here long?”

“Yeah it's been us. Me and Z go back a long way. We never used to have an issue here - the Hidden Beks kept this place clean of scum. They’re alright, it's the Vulkars you gotta watch out for. They're ruthless, and their leader used to be one of the top people in the Hidden Beks, so there's a whole lotta bad blood there.” She launched into the history of the gangs while I watched her. There was something incredibly depressing about such a young child being on the streets on her own. Even with her big protector. I wondered what the story was behind the two.

“Wow.” Carth scrubbed a hand through his hair once she had finished her tale and shot me a look, “Well thanks Mission. You've been remarkably helpful. My friend and I should probably get going but I really appreciate all the information you've given us.” He chuckled, seeming almost on the verge of ruffling the non-existent hair on her head. “You know, you're pretty smart. You could be a tour guide someday.”

“Nah I'm fine with just hangin’ out with Z here. Most tourists are mean anyway, not like you guys.”

I didn't want to get her involved but since she was the only friendly creature we'd met down here so far, I took a gamble, “You wouldn't happen to know anything about any of those escape pods people are all abuzz about would you? I heard rumours that one of them crashed in the Undercity.”

Mission eyed me for a moment, then shook her head, “Nah I don't know anything about that. If you're looking for answers about anything on Taris then you should talk to Gadon Thek of the Hidden Beks. Besides. No one really goes down there. The Undercity's crawling with rakghouls. One bite or scratch from one o' those and you become a mindless monster for the rest of your life, feeding on others. I would be careful if I was you.”

I had the feeling she was hiding something, but Carth cleared his throat before I could press further, “You're absolutely right. We've got no intention of going anywhere where there are rakghouls nearby." He glanced at me and jerked his head in the direction of the exit. "We should probably get going,” he said. “Thank you, Mission, you've been an invaluable help to two old tourists.”

Mission shrugged, “Well okay. Yeah. Nothing interesting happening here then. Let's move out, Z.”

The Wookie growled a protest of the food he'd be leaving behind, and the Twi'lek turned to glare at him, “Well maybe if you didn't drop half of it on you then you wouldn't be so hungry all the time. And geez you stink too! Ever thought about washing that great big rug on your back?” The Wookie's frustrated roar drowned out her complaints as they both turned and left, seemingly having forgotten us.

I watched her go, wide-eyed, then turned to stare at Carth. He seemed as bemused as I.

“Sorry for cutting in, it's just … in case anyone comes asking around I figure the less she knows about us the better.” I nodded silently in agreement, watching the odd pair disappear around the corner. “You think she'll be okay?” He asked gently, concern colouring his voice.

“Hey,” I said lightly, “She's got a Wookie with her. She's probably better off than any of us.”

Carth laughed at that. “I wonder what the story there is,” he said thoughtfully.

“Dunno but I hope for their sake they get out of here fast.”

We turned to pick up our belongings and slowly left the now-deserted canteen. I threw on the plates of armour over my light jacket and pants with Carth's help and we made our way down to the last elevator. This would take us to the Undercity. We'd heard enough rumours about the crash to decide we wanted to start looking there, even if without help or information from locals like Mission. I waved down the Sith as we walked nearby, “Take us down, soldier.” With my accent they never seemed to think us out of place, but this Sith stood immobile. “Did you hear me? I want to go down.” I made gestures with my hand this time.

The Sith looked us both up and down. “Are you daft?” Came the sour reply, “I'm not doing a damned thing until you show me some authorization.”

We’d decided my Sith persona was going to have to be every bit as abrasive as every other Sith we'd met so far. I squared my shoulders and curled my fists.

“This is my whole damned authorization,” I snapped, gesturing to my armour, as Carth laid a hand on my shoulder to pretend to pull me away. I shook it off and stood my ground in front of the Sith. The armour clad man slowly walked up to me until his helmet was inches away from mine. The black visor stopped me from seeing his expression, but I didn't need to see his face to know that he was angry. “You need authorization papers to get down there, whelp. Everyone in Malak's army down on this backwater excuse for a planet knows that. So why don't you?” His voice grew suspicious, “Where's your ID soldier?”

Carth stepped in, “Look, it was my fault. I left the papers back at the base. We'll go grab them right now.” He waved both hands in the air and shot me a glance, “We’re walking away now. ‘Official Sith Business’ and all that. Come on, let's go.”

The Sith looked us both up and down once more and then snorted and resumed his position by the door. “You come back here without papers again and I'll see you writing up civilian complaints for the next seven weeks.” We headed back the way we came.

“Authorization papers,” I muttered, “why can't things just be simple? Where would we even have to go for that?”

“We'll figure it out,” Carth said soothingly, “we just need to regroup and start asking the right questions.”

“That or start beating it out of them. I'm joking,” I added when Carth shot me a look.

“Well,” Carth seemed like he was loathe to even speak his opinion, “from what the kid was saying, it looks like our only option is to deal directly with the swoop gangs. She said the Hidden Bek hideout was close by.” He pulled out his comlog and we pored over the holomap of the Lower City.

“There.” He pointed to a nondescript shape just a few blocks west and south of us. “That's if this whole thing isn't one big trap. Maybe the Sith and the swoop gangs are working together. It would explain why they've left them alone for so long. They probably know who we are already. Maybe they're trying to get us to tell them where Bastila is!”

I laid a hand on his arm as he became increasingly agitated. “Take it easy there. There's no way Malak's got the numbers to come down here and take the Lower City. The swoop gangs probably hate the Sith as much as we do. And Mission does not seem like a conniving spymaster. She's just a kid that wanted to help us out because we tried to help her.”

Carth looked like he'd just been made to eat dirt. “I don't think we should trust them.”

“And we're not going to. All we have to do is go to this Gadon Thek and ask him if he knows anything about the crashed pods and how we can get into the Undercity.”

“And you think they're just going to tell us everything? They're not going to give information freely. Hell, they'll probably just lead us into a trap. There's no way to know if they're working for the Sith!”

“Carth,” I paused and looked up at him, “I … I know you're having trouble with this whole trust thing but … look, we don't have to trust the gangs, we just have to get them to cooperate with us enough to get some answers.”

“It's not them and it's not you. I don't trust anyone here,” he shook his head in defeat. “Look, we'll do what you say but I'll be watching them closely.”

There was an obvious pause in his voice, as if there was more to what he'd said out loud. I got the distinct feeling _they_  were not the only ones he was going to be watching. I tried to let go of some of the air I'd been holding in. It probably wasn't personal for him but it sure as stars felt like it was to me.

“Alright Carth. Just … keep your blasters down okay? If everything goes south when we walk in you can say I told you so.”

He muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like he was voicing concern that we'd make it that far. I kept my mouth shut and continued on down one of the hallways.

We were about to head back out to the Upper City to regroup when we passed by two nondescript doors with a large woman standing beside them. She leaned casually against the doorframe with an air of nonchalance but I could tell she'd already seized us both up for possible threats.

We had walked up the hallway and down one of the side passages before I made my decision to turn back.

Carth grabbed my arm as I changed direction, “We should really plan how we're going to approach them and what we are willing to give up,” he started, but I brushed his arm aside and shook my head in disagreement.

“Carth, we've been planning everything out step by step. And nothing has gone according to plan. Let's just go talk this out. Maybe it blows up in our faces, maybe it doesn't. I just think we're being way too careful about this.”

He looked like he wanted to say more — much more — but thankfully after a moment Carth nodded in agreement and we continued on. As we neared the compound I looked at him and added, “Look, if you feel better about having our weapons out …”

“I'm paranoid, sure, but I'm not an idiot,” he replied in a light tone. “We'll do it your way for now.” I was glad he had enough presence of mind to stick to his promise the whole way through.

The woman at the door seemed to be expecting us, but she tried to turn us away half-heartedly at the start.

“I need to see Gadon Thek,” I repeated patiently but firmly for the third or fourth time. “I heard quite a lot about him from a friend. Young Twi'lek by the name of Mission Vao. You know her?” The woman sighed, casually looked down the sight of a blaster pointed at the ground and then frowned at me.

“Fine. I guess you'd have to be far too stupid to try anything in our home base. Besides, I figure you make for your blaster and Zaerdra’ll have your limbs cut off in three different places before you so much as shifted a muscle.”

That seemed oddly specific, but I wasn't about to call her out on anything. Not with the door opening slowly and Carth standing beside me all but straining to reach for his blaster. “Thanks,” I said hurriedly, gesturing to Carth and heading inside the compound.

The Hidden Bek base was industrial but served as a good compound for a swoop gang. It was warm here too, but not unbearable, and the faint smell of fuel and burnt gas filled the air. There was none of the luxury that gangs from other planets tended to surround themselves with here. The folk working on mechanics to the side or strolling about the compound on other errands seemed hardy but not troublesome. We got the occasional distrustful glare but with the attitude it seemed more like a busy complex than any gang hideout I'd ever been to in my line of work.

Then there was Zaerdra. The Twi'lek was tall, her form fitting outfit cut to show off the definition of her muscles more than her skin. She had a permanent glare before I even reached her, and her blaster was pointed straight at me. “You give me a good enough story why I shouldn't shoot you down right now and maybe I'll consider not feeding you to the Rakghouls after I shoot,” she snarled in Basic.

The man beside her laid an arm on her shoulder. “Come now Zaerdra, we'll not be shooting guests that come into our pavilion before learning what they are here for.”

The Twi'lek gave him an agitated look, “But, Gadon-” he patted her shoulder soothingly, then turned his gaze on us. His eyes were clearly cybernetic, and sometimes glowed strangely in the light, almost as if they had a light of their own. Their white shine seemed brighter against his dark skin.

He seemed to notice my discomfort and chuckled, “That's what happens when you are too overconfident. I lost my real ones in a swoop accident a little while ago.” I shivered, but the man himself was not half as unnerving as his eyes. “Since then,” his voice hardened and his eyes narrowed, “every one has expected me to step down. They all think they can do the job better. Is that why you are here, stranger?”

I raised my hands slowly, pausing when Zaerdra let out a wordless growl. “No. I'm here for information.”

“Talk to the Taris Tourism Board if you want a tour guide,” Zaerdra snapped. I looked at her and shrugged, gesturing to the compound. “Hey, I figured if there was anyone that really knew Taris, it'd be the Hidden Beks. The authorities don't know the planet like you do. Or at least, that's what I thought.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, offworlder,” the Twi'lek retorted. She twisted her head to look back at Gadon. “Tell me you can hear it. Her accent’s just like those occupying assholes. This is some trick they are playing on us and I won't be a part of it!”

Gadon shook his head as Zaerdra raised her blaster once more, the point aimed at my head. “Zaerdra, if we start shooting everyone that walks through those doors simply because they are not a Hidden Bek then we are no better than the Vulkars. Let's at least hear what this offworlder has to say for herself. Not everyone with an Outer Rim accent is a Sith.”

“Thank you,” I started, suppressing my urge to glare at the Twi'lek after she snorted in disgust before I even finished the phrase. I continued on, “Thank you, Gadon Thek, for your hospitality. We had some questions that no one here seems to be able to help us with. I was hoping we'd have more luck with your knowledgeable gang.”

Gadon rolled his eyes, “I may be old but that doesn't mean I have the patience of an old geezer,” he warned me.

“I…yes. We've heard rumours of an escape pod that landed in the Undercity. What do you know of it?” I saw his expression and added, “We're looking for a woman that may have been involved.”

Gadon’s brow knit over his glowing cybernetic eyes. It made for a very eerie look in the lighting. His voice was soft and compassionate though, “I am afraid I do know what you are talking about. I have information on this woman. And none of it good. We all felt the tremor when the escape pod hit, but the first ones on scene were the Black Vulkars. By the time they left, all the valuable items had been stripped from the crash and we only had shredded durasteel to go through. The female soldier they found was subdued and brought back with them.”

“So,” I said after taking a moment to process the story, “we'd have to go to the Black Vulkars?”

Gadon and Zaerdra both snorted in derision. “Brejik’s gone crazy since she was found. He's been meaning to take over the Lower City and, with her as a prize in the upcoming swoop race, he plans to buy the loyalty of whichever team wins the race,” the older man explained. “There's no way she'll be kept in a place easily accessible by anyone.”

“What do you mean, prize for a swoop race?” I asked, my voice raised. I didn't think I could ever have been so offended, “You can't put a person up as a _prize_.”

Zaerdra’s lekku swung from shoulder to shoulder as she shook her head. “How new are you, offworlder? The Vulkars deal in people. Where do you think slaves come from?”

“You can't sell her as a slave!” The shock and disgust in my voice must have shown. Gadon and Zaerdra both gave me a calculating look.

“You know who else was looking for a female soldier,” Zaerdra mused aloud, “I believe it was the Sith.”

“I can assure you we're not with the Sith.”

“Then why the interest, stranger?” Gadon’s eyes bored into mine.

“I work with an interested party,” I said evasively. “We need to ensure she is not harmed.”

“Sure,” Zaerdra said, “Slaves don't go for as much with marks all over their body.”

“I am not going to sell her as a slave!”

Zaerdra stepped closer to me. “You say you're not with the Sith. Tell me how a stranger like you with no ties to the Sith gets into the Lower City without trouble then? The Sith keep those elevators on lockdown.”

“I … I stole a suit of armour.” I could feel my face tinge red as Zaerdra cackled.

“How fortunate for you,” she said wryly. Carth, stars bless him, fished around in our compact bag and pulled out the suit of armour and the ID tag that had come along with it. “That look like either of us to you?” He asked, matching Zaerdra's tone of voice. The picture he held up was of a woman, red headed and almost paler than the white background she stood in front of; it was clearly a big contrast to my dark hair and much darker skin. Zaerdra's eyes dipped down to the card and back up to our faces suspiciously.

Gadon was obviously tired of the idle chatter. He seemed to have made up his mind about something while we were trying to convince Zaerdra we weren't lying. “Let me give you a free piece of advice,” he said, crossing his arms and glaring down at us with his two glowing eyes, “'only way you're getting your friend out is by winning the swoop race. Problem is, right now the Vulkars are two steps ahead of us. We developed a prototype accelerator a few months back that would almost guarantee us a win, but those bloody Vulkars came in and stole it from us! Without that accelerator you're gonna lose no matter how good of a rider you are.”

“Well I can assure you that is not our only problem,” I said lightly, “I figure having a swoop bike is the least thing you need to enter a swoop race so I'm going to hazard a guess we're more than two steps behind the Black Vulkars.”

Gadon Thek nodded in understanding, “I thought you may have a similar trouble. So that's why I'll make you a deal. Get me that accelerator and I'll trade you for a swoop bike.”

My eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How exactly am I supposed to do that?”

“Guard mentioned you spoke to Mission Vao before you came here. Now that's how you're gonna get in to the Vulkar base. That girl knows most of the secret routes in the City. If anyone can take you in, it'd be her.”

“I am _not_ taking a child into the heart of a swoop gang complex.”

Gadon shrugged, “That _child_ has probably been through there more times than Brejik himself. Back when we weren't so divided. I doubt any of 'em new folk even know she had access. She knows the dangers better 'n anyone. If you're interested in saving this woman then you had better cozy up to the idea.” He rummaged around for something on his desk and paused, looking down at the sheaf of datapads in front of him, “I suppose I should mention the race is in two days.”

“Two days? That is not nearly enough time.” My heart was beginning to sink. I'd never raced professionally before. And here I was. Only thing I needed to do was win. How hard could that be? I felt like breaking down and laughing.

“Well I won't argue with that. You want to find Mission, she'll probably be in the Undercity with that Wookie of hers. She tends to hang out there and look for things to salvage. Once you meet her she can take you to the Vulkars and you can take back my damned accelerator. Then you have this old man's word that you can have a swoop bike to enter into the race.”

It took all my effort not to collapse against his desk from mental exhaustion. “We already tried … to go down to the Undercity … they said the armour wouldn't work. We needed authorization papers.”

“Ah, right. That's what I was looking for.” Gadon resumed looking through the mess on his desk and came up with an official looking datapad. “You need authorization papers? I got 'em. I'll trade you for the Sith armour. Hell you won't even need it with these,” he shook the datapad in one hand, “it'll let you go through any level, including the Upper ones.”

I glanced at Carth who frowned at Gadon. “How do we know it won't lock us in this level?” he asked, crossing his arms.

Gadon shrugged, “Look, you take it or you leave it. Makes no difference to me.” He started to put the datapad down, but I took the armour from Carth and handed it over to Gadon — or at least tried to before Zaerdra snatched it out of my hands and peered at it as though it were a cleverly disguised bomb.

“You aren't even gonna ask what they want it for?” Carth protested. Zaerdra, satisfied with the armour, dropped it on the ground beside her and crossed her arms. It made a sharp clack against the concrete floor. “There's a war coming. Only fools don't prepare for a war,” she said, not even a hint of her characteristic sharpness in her voice. For the first time I thought I saw more of her than most had in their lifetime. The Twi'lek was beautiful, with creamy skin that faded into purple at the tips of her lekku, but her hard eyes shone with weariness at the days to come. She'd seen a lot, and suffered for it too.

Just like that she was gone and Zaerdra was staring at me suspiciously again. Gadon handed me the datapad before I could open my mouth. “You should have everything you need,” he said, staring at me with his unsettling eyes. “I suppose I'll wait for you to show up. If you decide your friend's worth the trouble.”

I muttered, “She's not my friend,” half-heartedly and thanked both Gadon and Zaerdra. Carth and I turned to leave.

“I hope you both make it,” Gadon called out. “For all our sakes.”

 

* * *

  

Carth and I both heaved a collective sigh of relief once we were clear of the Hidden Bek base. They may not have been overly aggressive, but we were still trespassing in their territory, and we clearly did not belong. Gadon Thek was helpful now but I was under no illusion that he had his own reasons for entrusting the task of finding the accelerator to us — the most obvious one being not wanting to sacrifice any of his own on this potentially fatal mission.

The authorization papers worked to get us back to the Upper City thankfully. I stuffed the datapad back under my jacket and flexed my fingers.

“Let's head back tomorrow and make our way to the Undercity. We'll regroup tonight and grab some supplies tomorrow morning. I think there was a medical bay somewhere on the south platform near our building where we can stock up on medpacs. I've heard rakghouls have a serious bite, but maybe some antidote will help if we're in a tight spot.” Carth nodded slowly, his eyes trained in the distance, clearly lost in thought.

“Hey,” I nudged him and he started, blinking at me, “we just have to get through this and then we're free of the gangs and we'll have a clear visual on Bastila.”

“You think it's gonna be that easy?” He seemed like he was trying his best to be supportive but all I could think of was how bad of a job he was doing. “Have you ever ridden a swoop bike? Okay great. So no, you haven't, but you plan on winning this professional race somehow? And that too with the accelerator in the Hidden Bek’s hands? I mean, you know they're not just going to hand that over to you, even if you do return it all prettily packaged and ready to use.”

I tugged at his arm and slipped into a side lane, away from most of the crowds out and about at night, before grabbing the lapels of his jacket and pulling his face close to mine.

“Listen up, fly boy, you're not the only pilot on board that knows their way around an obstacle course,” I said sweetly, “and I highly doubt riding a swoop bike is going to be harder than some of the other craft I've piloted back in my day. Let's see how well the plan goes before we knock it, hey?

“Gadon said that Bastila will be hidden away until the race,” I continued patiently before he could open his mouth to speak again. “The rest of the Vulkars won't know where she is, even if we tied up every last one of them to make someone talk. Whether I race or not, we won't have a chance to get at her until they bring her out as a prize.” I let go of him and Carth took a step back.

I walked to the wall and leaned against it, continuing on in a slightly gentler tone, “Well, what do you propose? You want me to destroy the accelerator? Because then I won't even get a bike to qualify in the race. And I'm guessing they're not going to let a spectator close enough for me to free her. This is really the only sure way to save Bastila we've found since we got here. Don't you think that deserves a chance?”

Had I been with anyone else from the Endar Spire speaking like that probably would've gotten me a sidelined with the promise of a court martial once we were off-planet. But Carth mulled the options over, running a hand over his face in thought before shaking his head in defeat. “Hey, like I said before … you call the shots. Let's just hope it doesn't go horribly wrong.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said wryly.

“You bet, beautiful,” he shot back, turning back to join the street and staring straight ahead with just the slightest twist of a grin to his mouth. I paused and glared at his back as he continued walking. At the Sith party we'd been to, I'd encountered a very drunk man who’d been enamoured with most of the women in the party but had been far too drunk to say more than just two or three words. 'Beautiful’ had been at the forefront of his considerably small dictionary. I had spent an unfortunate amount of time with this man trying to distract him so that he wouldn't notice the bag of Sith armour I had clearly stolen.

Carth hadn't let me live it down yet.

I strode forward, clapping him on the shoulder and digging my fingers in just enough to get a wince, “Oh don't worry, you handsome thug,” I said, “we'll find a nice pretty Sith lady for you too after we save Bastila.”

Carth groaned, “I've spent too much time with crazies to want to bring that on myself,” he said.

We grabbed some food from a small kiosk in the Upper City and headed to our apartment to plan for our venture into the Undercity before getting some rest, although neither of us found it an easy task to sleep. The worry of tomorrow loomed over our heads and it was hard to let go of the anxious thoughts that ran through my head.

I settled for leaning back in the chair — Carth had tried to convince me to take the bed, but I'd made sure we switched daily and it was his turn tonight — and watching the nighttime glow of Taris through some of the tiny openings in the broken slats over the window while I waited for sleep to come.


	5. Taris II: The Undercity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this one!

Months ago, when I first awoke from my so-called accident, I was made to believe that the resulting injury had given me terrible amnesia. I could only barely remember bits and pieces of my past; certain memories, weird associations, and the lingering feeling of anguish and anger whenever I tried to remember exactly how it was I received my head injury that would inexplicably leave my hands shaking and the room suddenly cold. Since then my medics had listed that the only concern they had for my recovery was a paranoia I had of losing my memory again that multiple therapy visits could not fix. The day I was able to hold a datapad without dropping it, I had begun to catalogue the events of each day to go over in the future, certain that one day I'd wake up and lose it all again.

By the time I'd gotten to Taris, I was a natural at cataloguing my thoughts in record time, and every night when Carth went to sleep I wrote all the events of that day in my tiny datapad for easy reading when I woke up in the morning.  
  
I remember sitting in a small chair in that tiny abandoned apartment on Taris as I thumbed through my datapad, looking at the past few entries. I'd logged down even the smallest things. Who we'd met, what we had eaten; the way the warm red sunlight would shine against the Taris buildings to magnify the heat of the city during the day. The dawn came quietly that morning, drawing open the curtains of night ever so slowly until Taris' star began to shine brilliantly on the horizon. Our tiny room already smelled like caf, neither of us having slept much through the night. I poured myself my third cup of caf before the light that slipped through the window slats was finally bright enough for us to consider leaving.  
  
Carth exited the 'fresher, pulling one of the sleeves of his jacket over his arm. I glanced up at him, quickly turning the screen off and ignoring his raised eyebrow. Standing up, I stretched and took another sip of caf, “We should be okay to leave, I think. That med center should be open by now.”  
  
“Good," Carth stuffed his arm into the other sleeve of his jacket, "no sense waiting around any longer.”  
  
I nodded tiredly, finishing what I could of the caf and pouring the rest down the sink, watching the liquid turn from black to clear as I turned the faucet on. Carth was standing near the door at the ready by the time I'd stuffed some ration packs and a filter bottle into my bag. He had hidden his two blasters underneath his jacket, and I'd followed suit and strapped a blaster underneath my tunic. I preferred to use a vibrosword to a blaster but I didn't want to catch the attention of a Sith by walking in Taris openly with a blade.  
  
We took the elevator straight down to one of the southern platforms connected to our building and made our way to the med center. A large sign listing antidotes for multiple cures was posted at the front, with NO CURE FOR RAKGHOUL PLAGUE in aurebesh underlined three times just below. Carth and I exchanged a glance before I hit the door controls and the panels slid open to reveal a modest shop with a few sickbeds and some kolto stations. A sign pointing to bacta tanks in the back had been crossed out with a notice saying the tanks were not working at the moment due to a supply issue.  
  
Two men were there as we entered — a greeter closer to the door, and an older man that glanced up casually while he was changing the bedding on one of the sickbeds.  
  
“Any contagious illnesses, please take a mask and stand over to the quarantine station on the left. You'll be looked at shortly. All else please take a look at our inventory listed on the console to your right. Checkups please see my man at the front door,” the older man intoned without looking up as he went back to fixing the bedding.  
  
We stepped to the right and I brought up a selection of the center's inventory, running through the stock list to see what we needed. In time the man came over to see if we needed any help. He introduced himself as Zelka and gave us warm thanks for entering his shop. Carth chatted with him for a few moments.  
  
“You haven't got any sort of antidote for the rakghoul plague then?” Carth asked. Zelka shook his head in response, clearly frustrated. “Unfortunately no. If I had even a vial of their blood and an hour of time I could most likely synthesize something to counteract the symptoms. With a few hours I may even be able to nullify the disease so it doesn't affect the victim at all. Even a shot an hour or so after a bite could stop the transformation entirely. But I've found no one willing to go down to the Undercity and actively search out rakghouls just to get a sample of their blood.” The older man frowned, stroking his chin thoughtfully, “To be honest I know so little about the rakghouls I don't even know if a vial of their blood could be contained without issue. But if no one takes the risk then many will continue to die.”  
  
“What if we could bring you back a sample?” Carth asked. I glanced at him, surprised. He had been so adamant about focusing on the search for Bastila that we had had time for little else, even something as important as this. “If we have time,” I cut in smoothly before Zelka had a chance to respond. “If we came across one on our travels, we’ll do what we can to help you find the cure.” I smiled at Zelka who nodded at me.  
  
“That's all I can ask for, miss.” Zelka stepped back and leaned tiredly against one of the sickbeds. “So, you're heading to the Undercity? At the moment, it's the only place to accidentally come across a rakghoul.”  
  
Carth nodded and Zelka shrugged, playing with the frayed end of a blanket, “Well I don't know why you're going there but if at any point you leave the Undercity proper, you'll no doubt run into one of 'em. Out there, it's no creature’s land, but the rakghouls're giving everyone a reason to stay away.” Carth asked Zelka a few more questions on the rakghouls, turning the conversation casually into Zelka and his work on medicine. I chimed in when I felt the conversation had changed appropriately.  
  
“You wouldn't have happened to find any people injured recently, would you? Something consistent with a … say … ship crash on land.”  
  
Zelka stared at me. The eyes in his hollow, dark cheekbones were flat in the low lighting. “I'm sorry,” he said, “I wouldn't know anything about that.”  
  
Everything about the response was normal. He maintained the same casual friendliness in his tone of voice, and his expression hadn't really changed from when he was talking with Carth a few seconds before. But — and I chalked it up to years of working around people that never seemed to want to tell the truth — I had that itch in the back of my shoulders that I got whenever someone was lying to me.  
  
Carth exhaled and put a hand on the inventory console, the glowing screen lighting up his troubled eyes, “Pity that, you know, I just … I just hope whoever it is got the help they needed.” Carth either had a much better Pazaak face than I was expecting, or he didn’t share the same suspicions I had. Either way, I resolved to figure out what Zelka was hiding once we had Bastila with us. I knew the tales of the Force were exaggerated and my trial had proved they weren’t all mind-readers, but I wondered if Bastila would have some intuition about this man that would explain why I had a feeling he knew more about the other escape pods than he initially suggested.

I was still mindful of our initial mission, however. Our conversation over, we purchased some supplies with Zelka peering over our shoulders until we exited the dimly lit shop. Just as we were about to leave, the older man pressed a small package into my hand, containing a quarantine-ready sealable bag and a small empty vial. I slipped the package with the vial for the rakghoul serum in my bag alongside the medpacs we bought and thanked Zelka once more before we left the shop.

We'd barely taken three or four steps past the closing doors when we were stopped by a tall man in Tarisian clothing. “There you are. You were beginning to take so long I thought the old man had finally snapped and taken some samples of corpses to further his study.” I stared at him for a moment before the man stepped back, eyes darting between Carth and me, and backtracked. “Name's Gurney. I'm Zelka's assistant,” he explained. “ I overheard everything. I know the old fool wants you to give him the rakghoul blood for free with the hope of being noble and finding a cure. But, I says to myself, why would a smart, beautiful woman like yourself not also be a little more practical?” Carth snorted in the background. “Sure, you do the right thing, and I’m all for that! But doing the right thing doesn't mean you can't earn money too.”  
  
I arranged my expression into a very carefully neutral one. “A woman like me also doesn't like her time wasted,” I said.  
  
“I know someone that will pay you good money for that serum,” Gurney said. “Thing about the cure? There's money to be had where there's suffering on that scale.”  
  
“That's disgusting!” Carth snapped. “How can you be such a horrible person?” He started say more but I held up a hand to stop him.  
  
Gurney shot Carth a sly grin before continuing on. I knew Carth must have been livid, but we didn't need to attract attention from a shouting match. “All I'm saying is there's a way for you to be the hero while still getting paid to do it. Think about it. You give us the blood. We still make the antidote. Same as old Zelka here. But we have the infrastructure to support mass generation while still giving you a healthy dose of our … appreciation.” His grin widened.  
  
“Who are you speaking of when you say this 'we’?” I asked, confused, “I thought you worked for Zelka.”  
  
“For now … but I have a buyer lined up already.”  
  
“So what’s stopping me from giving it to both of you?” I asked. I wasn’t necessarily planning on it, but it couldn’t hurt to understand what I was being asked to do, and we were short on money. He crossed his arms and snorted derisively at my question. “You give that serum to Zelka, he’ll distribute it for free or next to nothing like the idiot has for the rest of his cures. And where there’s free, there’s no market. Now, Davik Kang’s not gonna invest in something he can’t make money off of.”  
  
I’d heard the name, however briefly, in our tours of the Lower City, and it gave me enough of an idea of the kind of man I was dealing with. “You want me to hand over the only hope of survival for the folks in the lower cities afflicted to a crime lord.”  
  
“Sh sh sh!” Gurney waved a finger in my face, “Not a crime lord! More of an … entrepreneur.”  
  
“He won't be more of anything if he crosses my path,” I responded sourly, “now get out of my way. We're done here.”  
  
“For the sake of the sheer amount of money we could both make I'm going to not tell Davik you said that,” Zelka's assistant said, gesturing with his hands to emphasize his point. “The offer is on the table. Now you come back here when you're ready to deal.” He sent me another sly look, “Hey, why don’t we talk about it over dinner?”  
  
“If I were you I'd leave it pal, or your dinner will consist of soft foods for the next few months,” Carth said in a mock sympathetic voice, clapping the man's shoulder. I had already started to walk off.  
  
“Just remember the offer!” He called behind us.  
  


* * *

  
  
  
We reached the Undercity mostly without incident. Carth and I stood in the awkward silence of a rickety elevator that creaked every few feet it dropped. We weren't too sure what to expect past the fact that a city somehow thrived at the bottom of the long drop.  
  
“You think they're just rakghouls? Like a city of sentient monsters and this is how they lure people in?” I mused aloud, trying to alleviate the mood. Carth shot me a glance, the corner of his mouth twisting upward slightly in amusement. “Couldn’t’ve checked this out before we got in the elevator?” he teased in response.  
  
I shrugged, “Hey it's part of the job. Republic pride and all that. Sometimes you have to go into a rakghoul city to save a Jedi. It happens.”  
  
Carth leaned against the wall and chuckled at me, “Well ma'am you're doing the service an honour. No idea where we'd be without people with your dedication.” He was silent a moment, and we both listened to the creak and groan of the ancient elevator as the sides scraped against whatever tunnel we were descending.  
  
“You aren’t really debating giving that serum over to that sleazebag are you?” he asked finally.  
  
I turned my head toward him and frowned, “Look, I know I’m doing time for getting caught smuggling for money but that doesn’t mean I’m some heartless old bat that wants to work for the Exchange. I mean, unless he offered me a nice freighter and a way off the planet.” Carth started to mutter something but I shook my head to stop him, “I'm only joking. Look, I told you I was going to help you free Bastila, and that’s what I’m going to do, alright? I had my loyal streak long before I met the Jedi.”  
  
Carth raised an eyebrow, “Loyal? Was that why you chose the serve with the Republic rather than do time?”  
  
“No. You'd be surprised at how much more likely people are willing to deal with you if you say you were ex-military. It's mostly for resume reasons.”  
  
Before Carth could make a snappy remark the elevator jolted to a halt none-too-gently and the doors began to rattle open slowly even before the elevator had stopped shaking.  
  
“Doesn't inspire much confidence,” I said nervously. Carth cleared his throat and came up beside me, holding one of his blasters.  
  
The city itself was uneventful. There was no welcoming party when we stepped out of the elevator, and thankfully no rakghouls either. There were a few helpful locals that were content to direct us around the place, but the city itself was smaller than a village and the makeshift tents they slept in weren't hard to find. Most of the others tried to ignore us.  
  
There were two gates at either end. One seemed to have been a pen to store livestock but unfortunately seemed to now house infected villagers. It seemed a cruel thing, to lock them up and let them feel their own madness take over. The woman I'd confronted about it, who called herself a 'healer’, asked me if it was better to kill them all instantly. She hadn't quite liked my answer. The second gate led out to the grounds and maze of tunnels that comprised the lowest level of Taris.

When we reached it initially, there was some sort of scuffle. A woman had thrown herself bodily at a man as the doors closed. She was screaming loudly while she scratched at him. I finally understood what was going on as three shapes moved from beyond the gate. One was a man, covered in grime and half limping, half running. The other two shapes were crouched, and grey. At first glance they seemed like small boulders that moved with inhuman speed. Then one of them stopped its pursuit, arching its back into the air and tilting its head with a loud screeching cry. It towered over the man.  
  
It was obvious he wasn’t going to make it. The woman had been trying to break past a man that I assumed was a guard of some sort and open the gate for the man outside, but as we neared the two of them, the gates rattled shut with a definitive clink as they slammed into the ground.  
  
“RUN!” She yelled at the gate, reaching over the guard in another futile attempt to touch the controls. The man outside the gate tripped and went down instantly. The rakghouls didn't falter once, gracefully changing course to stop and bite down at the man with barely a pause. We heard his cry just before it was cut off with a gurgle.  
  
Carth and I had reached the gate now. The woman had frozen in shock at the scene and was standing there pitifully. I felt sorry for her. As I stepped forward to offer condolences, the sudden movement broke her from her trance. She ran at the gate and grabbed the protective net, curling her fingers around the bars and yanking back as if she could open it herself.  
  
“Hey, hey stop that don't get to close!” The guard yelled, “You'll-”  
  
The second the man had died, the rakghouls had stopped biting into him, almost as if their purpose was not to eat him at all. When the woman had reached for the gates, one of them leaped forward with determination. It snapped at the gate, jaws closing tightly around the bars, and the woman fell back with a shriek. The metal of the gate rasped as the rakghoul’s teeth found and lost purchase. The creature tried to angle its head this way and that to see if it could reach in somehow, claws grasping at the gate in an unnervingly intelligent manner. Safely a few few feet away from the gate, the guard inspected the woman for cuts and found she was okay.  
  
“I am so sorry for your loss, miss,” Carth said softly, dropping into a crouch beside where the woman had collapsed from mental exhaustion. “I just want to say-”  
  
“You … you killed him!” She pointed an accusatory finger at Carth, and then at me. “You're the reason my Hendar is dead!”  
  
“Woah,” I said, holding my hands up and frowning, “how do you figure that? That man was on the wrong side of-”  
  
“His name was Hendar and you killed him!” The woman's voice rose to a shriek as she forced the words past her mouth. She stood, hands balled into tight fists and took a threatening step toward me. The guard grabbed her shoulder, “Hester, stop spoutin’ this nonsense. Hendar was attacked by rakghouls. We all saw 'em.”  
  
She angrily pointed a finger at the blaster showing under my open jacket, “They have weapons! What sick person would just watch and let something horrible like that happen? You should have saved my Hendar! You should have gotten bit yourself!”  
  
Carth tried to pacify her, “Miss, you're in shock right now. It's normal to feel these-” He cut off with a gasp as Hester turned to him and swung a fist at his face. I quickly stepped forward and caught her arm mid-swing before her fist connected with his face, walking forward to pull her back and away from him. She tried to hit me instead, but I held her arms firmly by her sides. Tears streamed down her face. “You're a monster,” she said quietly, collapsing back to the ground and staring up at me.  
  
“Come on now,” the guard said softly. He pulled her gently up to her feet and sent me a look that said I should have handled the situation better.

He took her somewhere, and by the time he returned the rakghouls had gotten bored and left the vicinity of the gate. The man was less than pleased to see us standing there still. “You're still here,” he grunted.  
  
“I would like to leave,” I said politely, “I wasn't sure if I should open the gates without you here though.”  
  
“You wanna end up like poor Hendar out there?” He frowned at me.  
  
“No. And I know why you closed the gate,” I said.  
  
The guard huffed and shifted the helmet over his face, “I would've opened it then and there upworlder, if you'd thought his life was worth saving. Guess we're not that important to the lives of those like you.”  
  
“Now you hold on just a second,” Carth said, "we couldn't have done a damn thing to stop that from happening and you know it."  
  
I cut the guard off before he could respond, “Look why don't you just open the gates and let us leave? We'll be out of your hair.”  
  
The guard made a careful show of inspecting the area outside of the gate before opening it, taking his sweet time. When we were finally able to duck under the slowly opening gates, they rattled shut before we had taken two steps past the entrance. I heard the guard spit something on the ground in disgust and I sighed, walking forward and taking in my surroundings.  
  
“He was wrong,” Carth muttered. “We couldn't have changed that situation any more than a freighter could've pulled out of a tractor beam. Not without luck. Not without a Jedi.”  
  
“Maybe we could've. Maybe I could have run out.”  
  
“And maybe you could have pulled out a lightsaber and cut the rakghouls all in half too,” Carth exhaled and shook his head, “He was just as powerless to stop it as we were. Men say horrible things when they feel powerless like that.”  
  
“Do you really think that?” I stopped outside the gate and stared at him, ignoring his attempts to brush aside the guard’s frustration. “Do you really think a Jedi can do so much? You have such faith in them. I get the feeling you think that if Bastila was here she would solve all our problems with a snap of her fingers.”  
  
“I mean she wouldn't snap her fingers. But … don't underestimate the power of the Force. It can be a great ally in situations like this. It’s saved me from situations just like this where it seemed like everything was going against us.”  
  
“If they were so great at everything why are we even here right now? How is she the prisoner of some half-rate crime lord on a backwater planet like this? Why isn't she off, I don't know, saving people or something?” I gestured around us, “Maybe she could have stopped Hendar."  
  
“It's the Force. Not gel. You can't freeze everything together and expect it to be fixed. Just wait til we get Bastila and you'll see. She'll have a good reason for what happened. There were rumours that Revan and Malak had been attacking Jedi in secret for some time. If they could capture Jedi, maybe there's a technique out there that we don't know about just yet that these scum used on Bastila.”  
  
Neither of us were interested in following what seemed almost like a religious debate too closely so I turned to examine the area we were in. The ground outside the Undercity was a vast wilderness with very little of note aside from the underlying faint smell of decay and other … rotten … things. Some constructs that could just barely be called buildings rose up ahead of us and the ground seemed to be a mix of soil and some other things I didn't want to think too hard on. But there were stretches that would go on forever with nothing to break the horizon.

It was dark; warm yellow lights were placed at regular intervals but spaced far enough that the shadows closed in on the edges of the small pools of light thrown by the industrial lamps. Here and there a red emergency beacon flashed a rhythm as it lit the area - Sith standard. They'd been down here to search the ruins of the escape pod, no doubt. We crossed into one after ensuring the beacons were simply there for light and not perimeter sensors. It was obvious the Sith did not intend to stay here long when they had come down initially.  
  
Somewhere in the midst of pools of yellow and red light fighting against the oppressive darkness we had our first actual close encounter with a rakghoul. We had trekked through the grounds for at least a few hours until the tiny village had dwindled from sight. I heard blasterfire first, before a loud shout drew our attention to the right. The dark lit up suddenly with firework-like sprays of colour as a few men fought back one of the monsters we'd seen back before we left the village. As they moved, the light swallowed more of them until we could see a party of four or five men fighting off a crazed rakghoul. One of them screamed as the creature ripped into his arm with long talons. The man fell to the ground, whimpering and cradling his arm while the others continued to fire at the creature. It did seem to slow down bit by bit but the creature seemed mostly unaffected by the onslaught. The men were floundering, fumbling at their blasters and trying to hit the thing anywhere. Their attacks were reactive and sloppy, more to push the creature away from them with the concussive hit than to actually cause any damage.  
  
Suddenly a shot directly to the rakghoul’s face caused it to howl loudly in pain and stumble back a few feet. There was one man different than all the rest. His movements were methodical, his aiming precise. He flipped open the hatch on his blaster and tossed out the old power cells, smoothly pulling a replacement pack from his belt and sliding it into place. He stepped back as the rakghoul began to advance, but his shot stopped it dead in its tracks before it could even get to him.  
  
This all happened in the span of a few seconds as we made our way to the scene. Carth and I had just gotten our blasters out before the rakghoul trembled, raising a shrieking cry, and toppled to the ground dead.  
  
The man looked around at the group of men, terrified and still shaking. “We gotta fucking leave, Ordo,” one man snapped, “The site's empty. Those damned Vulkars stripped it clean.”  
  
“Well,” the man called Ordo said, “you folks barely stood a chance against this one creature. We'll trace their route back to the Lower City.”  
  
While the other man seemed like he wanted to debate that, he was cut short as Ordo’s head snapped to the right. The man that had initially been scratched by the rakghoul had shifted on the ground and was trying to get up, cradling his arm. From the warm red light of a Sith emergency beacon, I could see the furrows on his arm clearly. There was surprisingly little blood, but something oddly coloured was slowly oozing from the cuts.  
  
He glanced up to see the other man's gaze fall flat on him and immediately began shaking his head. “No. No! Don't you dare fucking think about it. It's just a scratch!” He had given up trying to stand up and instead scuttled backwards. His injured arm gave out halfway and he fell back down to the ground. Ordo casually unlocked his gun in a smooth motion and brought it up to his shoulder. “It's just a scratch,” the injured man pleaded, lifting his one good hand in front of his face as if to protect himself.  
  
The shot rang in the air. There was a soft thud as what was left of the dead man's arm fell back to the ground. None of the other men made any comment, but they did glare disapprovingly at the man who shot him. As if it was nothing, Ordo had already turned his attention on to us, appraising the blasters still held in our hands.  
  
“You looking for something?”  
  
“We … we saw the rakghoul,” Carth said, gesturing to the monster with one of his blasters. “Came over to help.”  
  
“You call that helping?”  
  
“You were too quick,” I replied. “It's the first time we've met a decent fighter that can hold their own here.”  
  
He looked at me for a long few minutes before responding, ignoring Carth's uncomfortable shifting beside me.  
  
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” he said abruptly. Ordo shouldered his gun and began to walk in the direction we had come. “You look like you may be able to handle them yourselves. Time will tell,” he said over his shoulder. The rest of the men cast us a distrusting look before following him.  
  
“Cheery fellow,” I said to Carth, who shot me a confused grin as he holstered his blasters. I crouched down near the rakghoul and poked at it with my vibrosword. It seemed dead enough. With the vial that Zelka had given me in one hand, I held the vibrosword with the other and drew a long cut on the rakghoul’s arm, trying not to gag at the foul smell. The 'blood’ oozed from the creature. Pressing the flat of my blade against one side of the wound to speed up its flow didn't really seem to do anything but the flow was steady enough that it didn’t take too long to fill up the vial.  
  
Once I had gotten enough, I rose again, stoppering the vial and placing it in a quarantine bag that Zelka had also given me. “Well there is a market for everything. Did you hear what they were saying? ‘The Vulkars picked something clean.' You think the crash site is near here?”  
  
“Must be. We should go take a look, see if there's anything they missed.”  
  
The crash site was impressive; most of the pod was still above ground, and the scent of burning fuel was still strong. The pod was warm to the touch, and the area around us seemed significantly warmer. Embers still glowed. “Seems like it burned for a few days at least,” I said, resting my hand on the casing of the pod.  
  
“Let's see if there's anything we can find before the rakghouls come by,” Carth suggested.  
  
Whatever thoughts we'd had of finding any untouched secret compartments, our hopes were all dashed as we entered the pod through a jagged hole big enough for us to comfortably walk through. “Nothing here,” Carth called for the third or fourth time at the sight of a blaster mark ripping open the metal and an empty hole beneath.

We made our way out, “Well I hope Bastila will have everything she needs then. You think it’s too much to hope the Vulkars will also be auctioning the extra medpacs they seal up in escape pods?” I joked, “Zelka's aren't that cheap.”  
  
Carth turned to look at me, “What, you think third place will net you the standard weeks’ worth of ration bars?”  
  
“Ugh,” I groaned, “I bet that's the prize they have for any Hidden Bek winners.”  
  
“The ultimate insult.” Carth had stepped out of the wreck of the escape pod only to turn suddenly and dive back in, grabbing my arm and pulling me back with him. A scattering of blaster shots followed us.  
  
“It's the Sith!” He said, fumbling in his jacket for his blasters, at the same time we heard someone yell, “I know you're there, pubbie!”  
  
“Ah fuck.” I grabbed my own blaster and edged over to the side of the escape pod. The red glint of a beacon light bounced off of something silvery and I fired three shots at it immediately. Someone swore as I ducked back and another hail of slugs flew my way.  
  
“There are only five,” I whispered to Carth as we switched places.  
  
“Only?” He held both his blasters out, counted to three and ducked out of cover, pelting a few things by the sound of it. He twisted back behind the escape pod wall, pressing his back against it.  
  
“Five and something else,” he said jerking his head in their direction, “Something on the ground they're guarding too.”  
  
I switched places with him as he grabbed a replacement power pack from his belt. “That sounds promising,” steadying myself against the wall, and readying my blaster, I stepped out of cover. Two were down already and I fired until a third followed suit. Carth switched places with me again.  
  
“One left,” he called, and we both ducked out of cover, firing rapidly at the last Sith. One of his slugs grazed my shoulder but he fell down within a round or so too.  
  
“Nice shooting,” I said appreciatively, rubbing my shoulder. The graze had been light enough to only leave a burn mark on my skin.  
  
“Thanks,” Carth crouched beside the lump on the ground the Sith had been guarding. His eyes widened and he reached forward, “Wait, I think this is-”  
  
Before he could speak something screamed in the distance. A blue shape dashed it in front of me and slammed Carth into the ground. It was on top of him in a second, hands rising and falling as it tried to attack him. Carth was redirecting the blows, and I grabbed it from behind and lifted the tiny frame bodily off of him.  
  
I didn't realise who it was until I set her on the ground, catching a glimpse of her lekku and angry, round blue eyes. “Mission?” I asked, shocked. She punched me in the gut and I curled up as pain shot through my lower torso. “What the-”

“You leave him alone you hear me? I won't have any Sith lackey sell my friend for slavery!”  
  
“Mission … stop …” I gasped out. But before I could do anything the shape on the ground roared and stood up to his full height. The poor Wookie was not doing well. He started to say something before gnashing his teeth and shrieking as his collar sparked to life.  
  
One of the Sith I'd thought I'd knocked out had risen just slightly, holding a collar activator tightly in his fist. He was pressing the button now, teeth bared in a grimace, “I'll see … you burn … before … free.” Blood dribbled between his lips in between words.  
  
I twisted and slammed my foot into the man’s face, snatching up the device from his twitching fingers before he could activate the infernal thing once more. The Wookie snarled at me when I grabbed the activator, but a few quick words from Carth calmed both him and Mission down enough for me to close in and grab his collar. I'd barely unlocked it when Zaalbar grabbed it from my hand and stood up, tossing the thing as far away from him as he could in one fluid motion.  
  
“You saved Big Z!” Mission squealed, as if she couldn't believe it. She caught me off guard by appearing suddenly beside me and throwing her arms around my neck. “I don't know what I would've done if they'd taken him away! Oh, I'm so sorry for attacking you, I just saw you standing over him and then I saw red! He's my best friend, y'know, I wouldn't ever let anything happen to him.”  
  
I patted her shoulder awkwardly. The Wookie stood at his full height in front of us, twisting his head to stare at the collar as if to make sure it hadn’t moved, and then back to stare at me with his large, soulful eyes. “You have done me a great service today,” he said, in his native language.  
  
Mission released me and stepped back, scrubbing at her face quickly and took a deep breath, “He said-”  
  
“I know,” I interjected softly, still staring at Zaalbar. “I was helping someone in need. There’s no need to thank me.”  
  
Zaalbar exchanged a glance with Mission and roared out a question, “You understand my language?”  
  
I’d dealt with quite a few Wookies in my time. No one ever carried boxes like the gentle eight-foot tall creatures. “I’ve been to Kashyyyk several times. I was always met with the most amazing hospitality by your people.” I said.  
  
Zaalbar nodded. “If you know of my people you know we value honour above all. And you have saved mine today, stopping those slaving thieves from sending me off to be sold. My life is yours, Yevana Mar. I swear a life-debt to you.”  
  
Mission spluttered at the same time my jaw dropped open in shock. “Z, you can’t be serious! That’s permanent!”  
  
Zaalbar roared. “She saved my life. It is the only way I can repay her.”  
  
I shook my head, “Zaalbar. I … thank you. So much. I know the profound honour you are trying to bestow on me but I cannot accept this. I saved your life so you could be free, not pledge your life to me.”  
  
Mission gave the Wookie a glance and turned to me, grabbing one of his furry arms. “You can debate it all you want, once he gets something in his mind he won't change it. Probably 'cause all the hair in his ear’s making him deaf or something.” I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing at Zaalbar's indignant growl. “Well then it's settled,” Mission continued, ignoring Zaalbar, “if Big Z is going with you then so am I.”  
  
I felt like my head would fall off if I shook it any faster, “Mission, you can't-”  
  
“Hey, Big Z and I are a team! Mission and Z! We go way back. Besides, you have no idea how much trouble this furball gets into. I've spent the last few years keeping him alive and nobody does it as good as me.” She pointed a thumb at herself.  
  
Zaalbar looked at me, “I am in no position to make a request from you but I would rather have her with me where I can keep an eye on her.” Carth and I exchanged a glance as Mission snapped, “'Keep an eye on her’? What's that supposed to mean, Z?”  
  
At that time, standing in the filth of the Undercity, I didn't really know what I would do once I found Bastila and got off the planet. My secret hope was that this whole mission to find her would lead to some sort of medal that cut short my service and that I would go back to flying around in the galaxy, unperturbed by the general public. There were a lot of things on my bucket list that I had planned to do once I was free. Surprisingly, babysitting was not one of them.  
  
“Well I hope you don't mind tagging along with us old folk,” Carth said jovially, patting Mission on the shoulder. He shrugged at my questioning look.  
  
“I won't leave you in the dust,” she replied, beaming up at me. “Uh. So anyway where exactly are we going?”  
  
“Actually …” I explained our situation to her, leaving out only Bastila’s real identity and why we were really looking for her.  
  
“Wow,” Mission crossed her arms and tapped her cheek in thought. “Well okay. Gadon is right, I do know a secret entrance to the Vulkar base and I don't think anyone's used it in a long time. But I'm not sure. I kinda stopped going once Brejik took over. Wasn't anything there for me after, y'know.”  
  
“Well something is better than nothing,” I said encouragingly, “we don't know any other way to get in. You could just show me where to go on the map and Carth and I can go.”  
  
“Whoa whoa this is not something you're gonna see on a map,” Mission shook her head in amusement at my lack of knowledge. “So first thing’s first. I gotta go with you. Only I have the codes to get in and it's a real nasty shock if you don't get it right. And I mean that literally.  
  
“Secondly, Big Z can _not_ come with us. I'm serious. Even if he didn't smell bad enough that a tach could sense him without working scent glands, for a guy with natural furry slippers, he makes more noise than a bantha with a bunch of pots tied to its back.” She frowned at Zaalbar as he rumbled a noisy protest, “Don't you give me that attitude Z, you know I'm right!” The Wookie growled in disagreement but seemed like he was partly agreeing with her as well.  
  
“That settles it,” Mission said, “Z why don't you grab our things and take them to our new place?” Seemingly having lost all say in the matter, I entered the location of our base into Zaalbar's comlog as the two erupted into another argument over who had the most and heaviest items. Once their conversation had died down and Zaalbar seemed like he was finally ready to leave, I shouldered my pack and glanced over at my new companions.  
  
“Well, Zaalbar. Mission.” I nodded at each of them in turn, “Welcome to the group.”  
  
Zaalbar roared another thanks at Carth and me before he turned and walked back the way we had come. It was just the three of us now; Mission grinned up at me and pulled out a grey cloth, binding it tightly around her head to keep her lekku held in place.  
  
“Alright. You want to go to the Black Vulkar base? It’s down there.” She gestured in a general direction as she spoke. “We should start heading there now before some rakghoul sees us here and thinks we’ll make an easy meal. They’re really hard to shake off once they get your scent. Had to hide upcity for a few days once after I accidentally stumbled into a nest.” Even at the time I had no idea how she knew the land so innately when there were no glaring signs or landmarks to lead the way.  
  
“Lead on then,” I said, resigned. We headed further into the wasteland.


	6. Taris III: Tunnels

Mission took off instantly, leading us to an old abandoned-looking set of buildings almost large enough to be a complex. As we strode down the ramp, my nose wrinkled at the smell. The realization came to me as we stepped down a series of ladders and entered a labyrinth of tunnels all with the same peculiar smell.

“Sewers,” I groaned, holding my arm over the lower half of my face.

Mission turned her head to regard me from her crouched position a few feet further down the ramp, “Hey it don't get any better from here in. You ever smelled a Black Vulkar?”

“No. That was thankfully not on the Taris Top 10 Tourist Activities list,” Carth said wryly.

Mission turned her gaze on Carth, “Yeah I get it, you're an offworlder. No need to keep reminding me about it you grumbly old man.”

Carth stuttered from where he was behind me, “That-that’s not what I-”

“Settle down, you two,” I said quietly, looking down at my comlog and pulling up a map of the area. “Alright. Says there's an energy spike … here.” I pointed to a spot in the labyrinthine collection of tunnels we were in.

“Yeah that's the place. Tunnels here-” Mission dragged a blue finger through a section of the map, “-through here are mostly empty. Rakghoul nest here, we gotta detour down this way, and since we have to go up that way we can access the console here to bring down the shield.

We made our way in the direction Mission had suggested, stopping and referring back to the map once we had reached several new closures in the tunnels. Each time we saw or heard even the slightest hint of the creatures ― a stray bone from a too-large animal here, or a clatter there ― we turned instantly and found another route. The young Twi'lek had a knack for spotting Rakghouls and we kept well away from their line of smell. Even though we still hadn't interacted with one directly, I found myself jumping at every stray drip or clattering noise. I had no desire to encounter one of those things on my own.

Our safe route wasn’t without consequence though. The route that Mission had claimed would take less than an hour took longer and longer each time the young girl froze and Carth and I tiptoed behind her as she turned away from any huddled shape, certain that the pounding in my ears and heart was audible all those feet away to the creature that would pounce on me in a second. When we had finally reached the last stretch of tunnel between us and the Black Vulkar base, I felt so close to a nervous breakdown. Mission went ahead to scout out the area and returned to reveal that there was a newly built nest situated somewhere in the middle of the tunnel, and that she’d seen at least three rakghouls before she had turned away.

“There’s a vent that we can access on the other side of this tunnel, it’ll only take a few extra minutes to get to,” she whispered to us as we crouched in the hallway, our backs pressed against the wall to allow us to glance both ways down the tunnel. “Only …” she hesitated for a moment before continuing, “it’s a little small. I don’t really think you guys can go through. No offense.”

Carth and I exchanged glances. To come so far only to be stopped here at our last stretch was maddening. “Mission, are you certain you can go through and that the entrance is on the other side?” Carth asked.

“Yeah, I can see the glow from the end of this tunnel. And the vent’s right above it, it leads straight there.”

“Good,” I said. I had unbuttoned my jacket — the tunnels were cold and damp — to pull out my blaster pistol.

“Uh … what are you doing?” Mission laid a hand on my arm and pulled my blaster hand closer to her, her eyes widening when she saw the weapon. “Eva, you can’t! Those things are impossible to kill. Z’s tried like a bunch of times! Remember I said we had to leave the Undercity for a few days that one time a rakghoul nest got our scent? You can't kill them, and they are way too fast to outrun.”

“It can be done, Mission, we’ve seen someone do it.” I said firmly. I laid my other hand over hers and caught her gaze, “I need you to trust me now, just as I trusted you to get us here. Carth and I can’t make it through the vents, so we’ll just have to clear this tunnel.”

Mission shook her head, wide-eyed. “Have you ever killed one yourself? Even an armour-piercing bolt has trouble going through their skin. And the Sith have banned modded weapons around here. No, you know what? If we go back around there’s another tunnel that may have opened up recently. It’ll only take a few hours more-”

“Mission,” Carth had pulled out his blasters as well. He gestured to the route she had mentioned initially. “Even if we did have the time, we’re here already. Now, why don’t you go through the vent and get that entrance unlocked for us? We’ll be behind you in no time.”

Mission glanced at the two of us once more before sighing and squeezing my wrist. She nodded sullenly and we all stood up and checked the tunnel hallway. Once we were sure both tunnels were clear we exited the one we were in and walked with Mission to the vent, making sure she was safely inside before doubling back.

Carth and I stood before the tunnel door to the Vulkar hidden entrance. “She's right,” I muttered softly, “these rounds are never going to pierce their hides. I don't even think they'll slow them down.”

“Well what about their eyes?” Carth asked, “If there's ever a weak spot, it's always the eye.”

“You may be able to, but there's no way I can make that kind of a shot. The other two'd be here in seconds and I wouldn't be able to protect you.”

“Well, thanks for the offer beautiful,” Carth grinned, “but as much as I'd like the thought of that I don't think we have another choice.”

I thought for a moment, rummaging through my bag to see what we had that I could use. My hand enclosed around something circular and I pulled it out with a triumphant laugh.

“Keep it down,” Carth hissed, and we both glanced up the tunnel to see if anything had heard us. We weren't close enough to the opening of the rakghoul tunnel thankfully, and nothing came out.

“Here,” I whispered excitedly, shaking the grenade in front of his face, “we can set up perimeter mines and trick them into following us. When they get to the area we'll blow it and sprint for that end of the tunnel.” I appraised my companion, “I hope you're a fast runner.”

“I could be the fastest human runner and I don't think that'd make any difference,” Carth said, lifting a hand to stop me from waving the grenade, “Where'd you get this anyway?”

“I took it off one of those Sith we found earlier,” I muttered, fidgeting. “Look. That'll at least stun them a few seconds. And with the right timing it'll stun all of them to give us a better chance to get across the tunnel. It all comes down to the timing.”

Carth stared at the grenade in my hand and mulled it over, finally shrugging and holstering his weapons., “You’re right, it’s the best we've got. Let's do it,” he held out his hand to take the grenade from me.

It took a few more minutes to convince him that I would be the one to set the trap. “Look, you're the Republic captain, Captain Onasi,” I finally snapped. “Bastila will need you more than she'll need me. Now if you don't let me do this, so help me I'll throw this in there right now.”

Carth stepped back, hands raised. We walked near the mouth of the tunnel and I dropped to a squat, setting a small radius on the perimeter sweep before standing up and moving back carefully. I wasn't too too familiar with mines and was very aware that this could go very badly for us if I made the wrong move.

“Now the noise,” I raised my blaster and slammed it against the tunnel wall once, twice, three times. We heard snarls and a shriek from the inside of the tunnel. The clattering of clawed feet sounded, insanely fast, on the other side of the wall. It was like someone had sped up a scene in a holodrama with a dewback and replayed the sounds. Footsteps crashed down the length of the tunnel, growing louder with every second.

“Close your eyes when I say so,” we were on the other side of the grenade to ensure that the rakghouls would all gather around in the right area while trying to catch us, which meant we would have to run past them to get to the tunnel entrance once the mine went off.

The first rakghoul came out of the tunnel, and it was all I could do to keep my mind on the plan and not the monster in front of me. The thing was at least two feet taller than both Carth and me, leaning back on its hind legs to assess the situation. It waved it's clawed hands in front of it in the air and tilted its large head back to shriek loudly. Its cavern of a mouth revealed rows on rows of sharp, pointed teeth slicked with drool. The thing began to slowly advance, picking up speed as two more of its kind burst through the door behind it. Its claws screamed against the metal tunnel floor as its arms dragged behind its large body. I stepped back slowly, trying to keep the mine in my vision so I would know when the rakghouls were about to trigger it. The first one advanced a few feet and stopped to snarl at me. Its companion pushed past it to let off a high-pitched shriek that resounded through the air.

“Now!” I shouted. The second rakghoul passed into the perimeter sweep of the mine and it instantly exploded. I ran ahead blindly, holding in a scream as I felt the rush of air after something swiped a few inches above my head. I could only tell that Carth followed me because I could hear his boots slam down on the floor near mine as we stumbled through the blinding light and fog to enter the tunnel.

Our footsteps echoed around us along with the angry shrieks and roars of the confused rakghouls behind us. Once we were past the fog of the explosion radius, the rest of the tunnel faded into view. We bounded past the rakghoul's nest and it was all I could do not to turn and heave at the smell that reeked from it. I tried to breathe through my mouth, hearing Carth's gasps as he did the same. We were so close to the door.

To my surprise, two halves of the circular portal were slowly sliding open, revealing my worried Twi'lek friend behind them. As angry as I was at her for not listening to me and putting herself in harm's way, I was more relieved that the door wasn't going to trap us in with the rakghouls. There was a crash and clatter from behind as the rakghouls followed, swiftly gaining on us. Something swiped at me much too close for comfort and I felt my hair ruffle from the proximity of the contact. I held my blaster behind me and fired blindly, knowing that turning around and slowing down even for the briefest second meant death.

Carth and I both ran through the doors at the same time. I twisted around to the side and slammed my hand down on the panel. Two of the rakghouls were close to the door and I tossed an emergency grenade through the closing opening, hoping the blast would work a second time to buy us the time we needed.

It worked. Well, mostly. One of the rakghouls broke through the door just as it was closing, its body stuck in between the doors. It clawed and snapped at us, snarling as it tried its best to get either tooth or nail close enough to any of us. The door shuddered and let out a slow whine as it tried to close around the rakghoul, but the thing seemed too heavy for it.

Carth placed a few well-aimed slugs into the rakghoul's head but the creature didn't even seen unnerved. I had begun to do the same but the rakghoul reached out and swiped at me with it's claws, catching my outstretched blaster and sending it tumbling to the ground in two pieces.

“Be careful!” Carth and Mission both called out.

I stepped back and looked around the small room, lit by the brilliant glow of a blue forcefield on the other end, trying to find something in the dim light that would help us out. Near the door, a section of the tunnel seemed like it had caved in. The hole was thankfully not big enough that it provided an issue with the rakghouls, but there was a jagged piece of metal sticking out of the wall. I grabbed it and wrenched with all my strength, coming away with a sharp piece of metal and lines of cuts down my hand and arm.

“What are you doing?” Carth shouted, “If we don't get this thing out of the way the doors'll open again and then the rest of them will-”

I ran up to the rakghoul and sunk my impromptu blade into its eye before it could swipe at me. The thing was tall; I had had to stab the shard straight up above me. Its teeth were almost the length of my forearm, and the creature snapped its mouth in its dying throes but I was able to step back before any of its contaminated blood or limbs could touch me. It shuddered and its head began to droop as the manic light died in its remaining good eye. Without the live rakghoul straining to keep the door open, the doors slid closed with a crunch, slicing the creature in half. It's torso slid slowly down the now-closed doors and plopped to the ground with a splat, slowly leaking fluid. The thing's mouth shut with a loud snap.

“You okay?” Carth grabbed my shoulders to hold me in place while he examined my wounds. Outside we heard the scratching of claws on the metal door and shrieks as the rakghouls tried to ram their way in.

“It didn’t scratch me,” I grumbled, brushing his hands away. I took a look at the broken blaster on the ground, now covered in rakghoul blood. Carth offered me one of his own.

“Always preferred a vibrosword. It kept people away from my cargo same as any old blaster.” I muttered, inspecting the blaster he’d given me.

“I recommend using blasters for rakghouls,” Carth said lightly, “I don’t want to have to explain to Bastila why you turned grey before Zelka neutralised the virus in you.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I said as we examined the entrance to what looked like a waste treatment plant. The only clue it was the entry to the Black Vulkar complex was the forcefield that Mission had told us about. The entrance was clearly abandoned; no one had been here for at least a few years.

Once she had made sure I took a medpac to my cuts — I hadn't wanted to waste one for my trivial scratches but Carth and Mission both disagreed — Mission entered the codes without issue. We watched, patting dust from our clothes, as the forcefield shimmered out of existence. The cuts from the sharp metal stick had healed entirely by the time we stepped through the dying forcefield to stand in front of a small dusty rectangular door.

“Nice work, Mission.” I said appreciatively. The young Twi'lek beamed at me.

The door opened up to another set of narrow doors and then led into a long hallway. Where the Hidden Beks hideout had been a gigantic mechanical complex with open areas and ceilings, the Vulkar base was filled with winding tunnels, tiny rooms, and more than a few angry swoop gang members.

Once we realised they were not shooting to disarm, we left the remains of a bloodbath in our wake. Poor Mission didn't seem too happy with the thought of dispatching others, but after someone had attempted to use her as bait by grabbing at her lekku, she wasn't actively avoiding the violence either. Luckily we didn't have to kill our way through the entirety of the complex. We entered a large barracks-style room with several Vulkars about half an hour after getting into the base, and once we had taken down most of the members in the room, an older unarmed Twi'lek with creases on his green face waved his hands in the air to stop us from shooting at him.

“You look reasonable,” he babbled in Huttese. “I'll tell you whatever you need to know.” “I am reasonable,” I said, “and you seem like a smart guy. You know where the accelerator is hidden? The prototype they stole from the Hidden Beks?”

“Ah you're with them …” his hands snapped up as I stepped forward, “no, no matter. You want the accelerator? Here.” He carefully pulled out a security card with two fingers and gestured to a door two doors to the right of us.

“You go in there, it's an empty hallway that leads to elevators. It will take you to the swoop garage.” He finished telling us how to get into the room we needed and crossed his arms once I took the card from him, a sly look coming across his face, “You want to know how to bypass security? Maybe for a price …”

I waggled the blaster in my hand and he shrieked, “Wait! There's a console on the other side of the swoop garage, it'll let you shut down all security systems. Even the ones on the top levels! Please!” his voice grew more grating as he started to grovel, “I'm not really a part of the Vulkars anymore, I used to work here back in the day before Brejik took over. Now his new friends don't even respect me anymore! I'm a nobody, you don't have to kill me.”

The Twi'lek sighed in relief as I dropped my arm. “To show you my gratitude, I'll tell you how to get to the slaves. We're waiting on a shipment from Davik in a few days-I have special list here of the expensive ones, you just-?”

The blasterbolt tore through his skull. Mission gasped as the Twi'lek's body drop to the ground. I pocketed my blaster and turned to walk away, ignoring their questioning looks. The others followed me in silence.

The Twi'lek's information led us deeper into the base and down a set of well guarded elevators to the basement where the swoop garage was located. After bypassing elevator security the old-fashioned way, I sliced into a console on the lower level and shut down the droids in the garage. Keeping Mission as a guard by the console to watch the security cam, Carth and I moved into the gym proper.

We had enough time to take the prototype accelerator off of a fancy large swoop bike and rig most of the other bikes to explode before Mission caught the Vulkars heading to the source of the security failure on the last working cam. By the time she had run into the garage, we were just about ready to head out. We caught the look on her face and stood up quickly.

“Time to go,” I said, connecting the fuse and starting the countdown. We all began running for the entrance. There was a loud explosion on the other end of the garage doors behind us and we heard screaming metal as the doors were torn open. Blasterfire began to sound in that direction and shots grazed the floor and walls near us.

“Quickly!” I grabbed Mission's arm and pushed her through the open door we were running towards as an alarm began to blare and the doors started to close.

Just as I helped Mission squeeze through, our trap was triggered and the resulting concussion wave and rush of heat brushed us as Carth pushed me through. The shockwave seemed to confuse the security systems; the doors were now jammed and Carth slipped through with only a little difficulty.

We finally made it through the last door and onto the open streets, Carth and I raising our blasters to take out the three guards that stood watch before they had a chance to turn and respond. We didn't stop running until we had turned several corners and the yelling behind us had faded into nothing.

 

* * *

 

 

We decided it was better to head back to the surface first before returning to Gadon Thek. No one alive in the Black Vulkars had seen our faces and so if we waited it out a few hours we were certain we could walk through the Lower City without issue again. It also gave us a chance to deal with a few things in the Upper City. Mission headed to our apartment to see how Zaalbar was doing while Carth and I took a small detour.

Zelka, our first stop, had been more than overjoyed to see us return, and if I thought he couldn't be any happier I was proved wrong when I held out the package with the filled vial of rakghoul blood.

The old man grasped both of my hands in his, “You have done the people of Taris a good thing.”

I smiled at him. “I am glad that we could help.“

My eye caught the closed doors of the bacta room and I shifted uncomfortably, feeling that same itch to get inside and see what was in there. Zelka’s assistant called something out from the front of the shop and the old man turned a little to respond. A quick once-over of the shop told me little I didn't already know. But there, in the very back of the room, slightly hidden behind the sign indicating the bacta tanks were not working, I saw the brief glow of light emanating from the room beyond.

I heard the swoosh of the doors as the assistant left the shop and I got Carth's attention, “Look through here and grab what we need,” I whispered, “I'll be back. And distract him.”

I barely made out Carth's confused face before I turned to casually admire the work laid out on the desks. I heard Zelka attempt to talk to me, but Carth's voice stopped him.

“You look like you've got a lot of interesting projects on the go, here. What does a doctor do normally on Taris, anyway?”

“Well, I'm more of a researcher. Got grounded years ago and fell in love with a local. She's gone now. Kids’re off somewhere in the Republic hunting those big banks for a good job with some decent pay. I'm just here. Started this shop with my wife way back. Felt right to keep it until I meet her again.”

I put their conversation out of my mind and focused at the task on hand. I knew there would be a console or panel that would open the room, but I didn't want to make the search obvious. After a few minutes of looking around I finally saw a panel on top of a stand a little too close to the closed doors. Surreptitiously glancing over my shoulder showed me Carth had brought Zelka over to the console and was asking him something about his stock. The old man was curved over the glowing screen, his attention off me for a moment.

It was long enough. I crossed the room and turned the panel on. Most panels like these had a security lock but they also had a pretty common reset setting that worked instantly for me when I tried it. The console beeped loudly.

“Hey! What are you doing? Get away from there, you're not supposed to-”

The doors had slid open and I was already through, bathed in the blue glow of lit bacta tanks. My jaw dropped open.

“Carth.”

I heard his gasp as he followed me into the room, staring at the filled tanks in wonder.

“The others from the Endar Spire,” Carth's voice echoed hollowly in the room.

“You … you aren't supposed to be in here!” Zelka snapped. The old man pushed his way past me and stood before us, arms incorrectly raised against his chest in a feeble attempt to ward off fighters. He was no fighter, but he was willing to put his life on the line for these men and women that he'd never met.

“Zelka,” I said softly, slowly raising my arms in a gesture of peace. “We do not mean to harm them.”

“They're our friends,” Carth cut in. Zelka eyed us both through narrowed eyes.

“I heard … of other escape pods.” He said finally.

“Yes,” Carth said, his voice eager, walking up beside me. “That's why we're here. We know there are others. We are just … we're relieved to know they're okay.”

“Tell you what, Zelka. Those rakghoul samples. Instead of credits I'm going to need you to make sure these guys are alright and healthy to repay us.”

“Well I would've done that, regardless,” he began in a serious tone.

“We'll have to work on your bargaining skills,” I replied, grinning back at him.

“I'll help them in any way I can but I won't lie to you. It's not looking good for some of them.” He moved to one of the soldiers in the bacta tanks. A woman floated in the tank, short brown hair curling lazily around her face. There was a large gash in her side that was stitched up but slowly beginning to leak into the bacta tank. I remembered her face from the ship, but in my mind it was a carefree smile full of laughter in a rounded, healthy face surrounded by a halo of wavy hair. Here her eyes were closed, skin stretched tight over her bones like a paper skeleton. I rested my hand against the glass.

“Whatever you can do,” Carth said. “We know people die. It's part of the job.”

“And what job would that be?” Zelka asked casually. After the rakghoul blood, he didn't seem to distrust us, but there was definitely a part of him that was cautious still.

“It's nature,” I responded. My eyes were still glued to the unresponsive woman in the bacta tank. For a moment I fancied myself into thinking that I could feel her heart pulse through the tank. It followed the rhythm of her slow, drawn breaths. I finally pulled away and looked at the two of them.

“Even having a friend nearby when they … when they need it … is more than enough. It's all one can ask for.”

“They won't be alone,” Zelka said gently, resting a hand on my shoulder. His grip tightened and he turned to steer me out of the room, “You folks standing in here may mean they've got the wrong company though if you catch my meaning. I've got an ambitious assistant and that won't bode well for anyone.”

Carth and I both took the hint and we walked out of the bacta room after sparing a last glance at our comrades.

We purchased the supplies we needed and I showed Zelka how to disable the security override on his control panel so no one could open it without his code or a lot of time on their hands. We finally said our goodbyes and left the shop.

Carth and I stopped by our tiny room to make sure Zaalbar had settled in alright. The Wookie had set up a comfortable section in the room for himself and Mission. Once we were sure we had what we needed — and once Mission has convinced us that she needed to come along — Carth, Mission and I made our way back to the Lower City.

 

* * *

 

 

Zaerdra and Gadon Thek were poring over a console station and the entire complex was abuzz even before we entered. Our reception was much warmer than when we had first come in yesterday. Several aliens nodded to us as we walked on by. One younger Twi’lek grinned upon seeing us and gave us a thumbs up around a gigantic box he was carrying.

Zaerdra was on us before we’d barely entered the main area, lekku swinging behind her as she hastily made her way toward us. “Do you have it?” She demanded, her eyes flashing with more than just the lighting. Gadon followed two steps back. His eyes glowed at us as he grinned, “I guess there’s no point in pretending we hadn’t heard the news.”

“The Black Vulkar base was hit an hour ago. What took you so long?”

Gadon placed a calming hand on the shoulder of his lieutenant. “Come now Zaerdra. I assume our helpful crew here didn’t want to lead any angry Vulkars right to our door, am I right?”

Zaerdra snorted, “Yeah. That or she’s already sold the accelerator for a high price.” She ran her suspicious gaze up and down my form as if she could x-ray me for the accelerator.

“I didn’t sell anything,” I cut in, raising my hands to forestall whatever diatribe was going to spill from the Twi’lek’s mouth at this point. She glared at me, her mouth half open, still trying to decide if she should say it anyway. Mission stepped out from behind me and Gadon gave a surprised grunt, “Mission! I take it you helped them.”

“Helped her? I took her there myself.” The younger Twi’lek pointed to herself, “Your accelerator wouldn’t be here without me.”

“It’s true,” I added as Mission uncovered the large clunky accelerator. “We would’ve been lost without her.”

“Mission doesn’t normally help people she doesn’t trust,” Zaerdra turned her forever-suspicious gaze back to me. “Where’s your wookie friend, girl?” Her voice was still rough but it lost a bit of its edge when she spoke to Mission.

“Z got attacked by those slaving pigs. The Sith.” Zaerdra and Gadon both started to express their sympathy — or anger in Zaerdra’s case — but Mission shook her head quickly, “No no Z’s fine! Honest, Eva and Carth here saved him! So then Z being all extra and noble as he’s gotta be, decides to swear a life debt to her!” Zaerdra and Gadon both turned to look at me in awe. I shifted uncomfortably.

“That’s, well quite a story,” Zaerdra said finally. Gadon laughed and pushed past her to clap me on the shoulder, ignoring Zaerdra’s growl. “Any friend of Mission’s is a friend of ours.”

“Honestly it turned out for the better, I think,” I said in response, giving Mission a grin.

“Now we're going to go win that swoop race and save her friend!” Mission held out the accelerator but I placed my hand over it and stopped her.

“Hold on,” I said, “I think there are a few things we need to clear up first.”

Zaerdra growled and moved to grab her blaster but Gadon grabbed her shoulder and held her back, gesturing for me to continue.

“I know the deal was the accelerator for a bike. But I'm going to need the accelerator as well. You know why I'm here. You know why I have to win.”

Gadon nodded slowly, “For your friend.” He exchanged a glance with Zaerdra. “In fact, we discussed this already. That's why you're going to have the accelerator attached to your speeder.”

My jaw dropped. I hadn't expected him to accept so quickly. I backtracked, trying to make sure I wasn't walking into a trap, “You’re okay with a nobody using your accelerator? I'm not affiliated with you.”

“Tell that to the Black Vulkars,” Zaerdra said, and she shared a private chuckle with Gadon. I didn't even know she was capable of making jokes.

Gadon shrugged, “As far as anyone knows, you're riding for us. And there's the whole matter of you attacking an entire base of Black Vulkars. Seems pretty set in stone. But … there's one thing you should probably know.”

“One thing I should probably know,” I repeated suspiciously.

“Well you'll find out soon enough, I suppose. The accelerator had one issue our mechanics were attempting to solve before the Vulkars stole her from us. Only now the race is tomorrow and there's no time to fix it. She … runs a little hot. There's no doubt she'll give you the speed you need, but you can only run at most four or five heats around the track before she overheats and melts your bike into the ground. That's if she doesn't ignite the fuel and blow it up.”

I took a moment to mull over the options in my head; Carth was already shaking his head and seemed on the verge of giving the Beks a piece of his mind.

“I know why you're doing this,” I said at last. I knew regardless of if the damned thing worked or not, we had no other choice. “You can't ask any of your Beks to do this without knowing that they fully accepted the consequences.”

Gadon chuckled. “You ever been a leader? Half of 'em would cut their thumbs or equivalent limb off if I asked. The other would pretend to only for me to wake up and find out two of my own have disappeared.” He waggled his hands in front of me.

I frowned at that, the memory of a memory came, fleeting though it was. I must have had a sizeable crew of some sort at one time, but the thought was foreign to me as any other memory I had where I couldn't tell if it was real or something I had me up to fill in the holes in my mind.

“But you're right.” Gadon continued, “You have a stake in this far greater than any of my riders. And you know the whole story now so if you say no, the bike's all yours and I won't force the accelerator on you, but someone will probably die and they'll win the race before they do.”

“Well what's that mean?” Carth, having had enough of staying silently beside me stepped forward, crossing his arms, “So you're saying she will die?”

“I've met a lot of people in my time but this woman is one of the most resourceful women I've met. Almost reminds me of…” his voice trailed off.

“Someone else you sent to their death?” Carth asked shrewdly.

“Carth,” I said, “let's drop it. If he thinks I'll die then he doesn't realise what it's taken for us to get here.”

“My point is you seem like one of the few with a good enough head and a knack for the race that you could survive it. Like I said. You got four or five heats you can run with her. Best the score in four or five heats and everyone will be happier for it.”

He made it sound so easy. Carth turned to me, “I think we need to chat about this first.”

Before I could respond, Gadon raised a hand and turned around, pressing something in his ear and growling a response into the comlog wrapped around his wrist. He had more important things to attend to than our interrogation.

Gadon Thek walked away from us, leaving us alone with Zaerdra, who had settled her hands on her hips, pushing her jacket open enough just to show the two blasters hooked into her belt. I glanced between her and Carth and shook my head, “Sorry Carth, this is the only way we're going to save her.”  

Zaerdra nodded at me, and for the first time on her face I saw the tiniest hint of what I like to think was respect. She gestured to another man standing beside two large hangar doors. “That’s Hatim, our Race Master. He'll teach you a few tricks on the bike. He's one of the best, so if you're gonna learn how to ride in a night it may as well be from him.”

 

* * *

 

 

Maybe Gadon was afraid I wouldn't return if we left, or maybe he didn't want me to be approached by someone else and convinced to sabotage their plans. Whatever the reason, Carth, Mission and I were set up in very comfortable rooms — although I didn't get to see much of mine for a few hours.

After a few hours of training that had started with the Race Master rolling his eyes once he realised I had no idea how to handle a swoop bike, I finally returned to my room. I ran inventory on everything in the room, making sure nothing was missing and began to sit down on the edge of the bed, running a hand along the mattress underneath me. It was firm but I could instantly tell it would give me a much better rest than the bed or chair in the apartment in the Upper City,

I heard a soft knock on the door and Carth's unmistakable voice sounded from the other side. Casting a sad glance at the bed and sighing, I got up to let him in.

“I was worried you weren't going to get any sleep the way that guy glared at you,” he said jokingly. He carried three trays heaped with food and balanced two bottles of Juma in between them. I grabbed one of each, my mood clearing up a little.

“Carth, you didn't have to…”

He shut the door with his foot and went to place his tray on the arm of the single chair in the room. I raised a curious eyebrow about the third plate but Carth muttered a quick, “don't ask” and I gathered that Mission hadn't appreciated the gesture.

“That looks like something her parents would’ve put together. Almost no meat,” I said, grinning at him.

“She's a child! And now that she's our responsibility I have to make sure she eats well.”

“Carth, not that I doubt you'd be an endearing father figure but the last thing Mission needs right now is to think we've become her parents. I don't need a child thinking she can get back at me by putting rats in my mattress or whatever it is kids do,” I joked, doing my best to keep a straight face.

Carth sputtered over his Juma bottle, “Have … have you ever been around a child before?” He asked seriously.

“Well what makes you the child expert, then?”

Even as the words left my lips I knew I had pushed too far. Carth's expression shifted ever so slightly, and he lost his smile. But, before I could apologize, he had swept the look off his face and replaced it with a faked grin. “We live on those military ships you know. I've seen a kid or two before.”

“Well,” I said slowly, trying to backtrack my thoughts to get me out of this situation, “I bet they would've reacted the same way to someone telling them they needed vegetables.”

Carth snorted, “I'll give you that.” We both lapsed into a companionable silence and I finally loaded a fork with as much food as I could possibly fit onto it and began to eat. Neither of us wanted to continue the failing conversation.

“I won't pretend to say I wouldn't have done what you did.”

I glanced up at him, caught off guard by the vague comment. “That slaving asshole,” Carth continued. “He didn't deserve to make it out alive.”

“Thanks,” I said warily, hearing the blastershot in my mind and remembering how the Twi'lek's body crumpled to the floor after I shot him. I looked back down at my plate, “I was worried you and Mission were thinking I was some kind of a monster. I just … I couldn't let him go after that.”

“Too many of those people living in Taris nowadays. The planet won't miss one,” my companion growled.

We lapsed back into silence. Carth surprisingly seemed to regain much of his good mood quickly enough and even chuckled to himself as we sat quietly and ate. I wolfed down the food; I was starving. “You're in a damn good mood,” I said, focused on the food on my tray.

“How could I not be? We found them! Those men and women … once we get Bastila we just have to find a way off here and we'll have a crew again too!” He took a sip of Juma before continuing, “You've been saying we should search for them from the start, but you're more quiet than that time someone thought Bastila was a janitor on the third floor of the 'Spire.”

My reaction — or lack thereof — must have bothered him enough because he frowned at me and set his Juma down carefully on the edge of the chair arm. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” something gnawed at me but I couldn't quite place my finger on it. “Alright, something. I just don't know what. I get the feeling things are moving way too quickly all of a sudden.”

“Quick is good. We want things to move quickly. I mean, you aren't planning on spending a few months here are you?” Carth laughed — actually laughed — for the first time I could really remember, “I mean to each their own but I wouldn't consider this a vacation spot.” He raised an eyebrow, his voice changing slightly, “You’re pretty apprehensive now that everything is going well for us.”

“No! No it's just …” I could already tell where Carth's mind was going with this and the last thing I needed was to spend the night convincing him I wasn't going to sabotage the race. At the time I wasn't sure what had happened to him but it was obvious he barely trusted his own fork.

I picked up my bottle of Juma and took a sip before continuing, absent-mindedly examining the label on the bottle. “Maybe I'm just apprehensive about the race.” I didn't think so, but it was the easiest way to explain my uneasiness.

“Hey,” Carth leaned forward, “say what you will about the Vulkars, Gadon Thek is no fool. I agree with him. As far as trouble goes, we're the two most capable people to deal with it for now. You've gotten us through Taris this far - I can't think of anyone I'd trust more to free Bastila.”

I paused for a moment, staring at Carth. “Thanks,” I said softly, “I am glad you think that way. I hope I prove you right.”

He seemed like he wanted to say something more but thought better of it and grinned, “Aren't I always?”

“I wouldn't go that far.” Carth's grin grew and I felt like I knew what was coming before he said it.

“If you say so beautiful.” We both laughed. 

Despite his words I was having a hard time seeing the good in our situation. I felt something gnaw at the pit of my stomach, and fought off the mild nausea the bad feeling gave me. Once we had both finished eating, Carth waved me off of carrying the trays back to the kitchen with him and told me to get the rest I needed. Standing in the room, staring at the closed door and feeling the weight of tomorrow’s race on my shoulders, I struggled to take a deep breath and clear my anxious mind. It wasn’t very helpful.

I turned to my bag and pulled out my datapad, opening up my log and keying in the events of the day. Carth was certainly right; between the last few days, there was a lot that had happened today, all setting us in the right direction to free Bastila. I couldn’t understand why I was so apprehensive.

Now that I know enough about the world and my place in it, it almost seems silly to try and remember what that confused feeling was like. I couldn’t pinpoint what had given me the feeling, but I had the strangest thought that our interaction with Zelka had started some unseen timer.

At the time, I didn’t know what this feeling was, so strong in my bones that I could almost taste the certainty, but as I sat there finishing my log for the day I knew that if we didn't find Bastila and get off Taris in the next few days, we would never leave the planet alive.


	7. Taris IV: The Race

When I spent those few hours alone with the Hidden Bek Race Master, I was as astounded as he at the pace that I picked up riding the bike. I tried to attribute it to my experience with flying. Once the engine was on and I was surfing through the tunnels, nothing felt quite like it; the warm, exhaust-filled air rushed past me and every turn felt like a new adventure.

But the truth was, it was completely different. Most single-person or tiny space-flying ships allowed for some sort of in-atmosphere control that let a pilot land safely on the ground of a planet, but in space there was nothing to drag against. Some engineering company had long ago decided to include a manual set of controls to make it feel more like the pilot was able to influence the twists and turns of the ship by creating its own ‘drag’ with tiny thrusters that would send jets of fuel in opposite directions to stop an inexperienced pilot from sending the ship into a continuous spiral of movement. 

This was nothing like that. The swoop bike hummed underneath me like a living, breathing animal and responded to every push or pull with no resistance. Even in the clunkiest ship I'd piloted to date, the passage was a thousand times smoother than the jittering hunk of metal beneath me. My teeth were chattering underneath my closed mouth. Every turn I made, the bike tilted ever so slightly to the ground and I felt like a simple shift would send me tumbling to the ground if I didn't get caught under the bike itself. 

That was one of the rules the Race Master — a portly old man with multiple scars across his face and arms — had given me. In order, the rules were: don't turn too fast, don't turn too slow, don't let up even if you are worried the bike will blow up, don't stop the bike in the middle of the race, and don't fall off the bike. Each of those would lead to certain death, either by my own swoop bike or a contestant’s. 

He had given me the other rules of course. When to go, when not to, and other tips on avoiding obstacles and using them to my advantage against other contestants. 

Now, with the swoop bike humming underneath me and several bikes in front and behind me, with the crowd roaring all around us, I began to see the appeal of a racer's life. The lights switched in front of us. Red. I glanced up at the crowd, imagining that I could see the orange of Carth's jacket next to Mission's blue lekku. Yellow. I ran my eyes over the docking area for bikes. A Duros stood behind a semicircular desk taking last minute additions to the race. Beside him, well under guard and in a tiny electric cage, was a young dark haired girl that I assumed was Bastila. 

And then the light switched to green and the race started. 

Swoop racing apparently had several iterations throughout the Core Republic and Outer Rim worlds. Some versions were on singular tracks that wound around and around with areas reserved for hidden debris or speed bumps that would change after every run. Some were open to the public and allowed the spectators themselves to become as much of an obstacle as the rest of the debris on the course. 

Taris, home of swoop racing, offered several different options for swoop racers that varied by location, race and the time of year. This particular race consisted of a large route that was hidden within a tunnel. While viewers could spectate from the multiple cameras and angles, they were largely kept out of the race itself on Taris. Here, it was each swoop racer for themselves. There were no guns in these primitive metallic blocks that we rode, but the mind games and obstacles on the course were just as deadly. 

I was somewhere in the back, several people on a variety of bikes in front and behind me. My bike groaned with the pressure as it struggled to rise to the speed I was trying to get out of it. 

I threaded my way through the others, picking up speed as best as I could. In order to use my accelerator, I had realised early on, I needed to have room to accelerate to. Using the boost while behind another racer — while definitely exciting to the crowd — wasn't something I was willing to lose my life to test out. 

My plan had been simple; force the movement on the track such that my speeder had an open track in front of it. Unfortunately the way the track was built, and with the amount of other racers on the track with me as well, that meant that I had to push past to first. And I was sure there was no way I could do that without the accelerator in the first place. It seemed almost like a vicious redirect loop. There was no way I could get that far ahead without experience.

Or a sheer amount of luck. 

One of the strategies in swoop racing was to force your opponent into debris fields. Some parts could cling to the swoop bike and mess with the aerodynamics. And for every section of debris, there was a charged speed platform that was essentially clear of all obstacles for a short section of tunnel. I switched gears from trying to push the others into the fields to securing those stretches of free tunnel for myself. I may have thought my bike was clunky, but it seemed that racing for one of the top swoop gangs had its perks; the bike I had was clearly one of the best the Beks had had to offer. I was able to slip through small enough gaps between speeders and angle the bike just so to miss narrow entryways enough to gain speed on some of my rivals. But these were seasoned swoop bike racers and soon they had begun to anticipate my moves and cut me off to the delight of the crowd. 

We may have been cut off by sight to the crowd around us but I could hear them loud and clear. I passed the first bike in front of me with barely a hair's breadth of space between the older Togruta's bike and mine, and I heard the collective gasp of the crowd over the roar of the bikes’ engines. A cheer rose as I slipped in between two other bikes, twisting out of the path of debris quickly enough to send one rider spinning confusedly behind me in the other direction and forcing the other rider to bank to a hard stop or face death. 

The crowd was abuzz by the time I caught up with the lead racer, but I noticed the finish line far too late to kick in the prototype accelerator. We both sped past the line at almost the same time, but the other racer — a Rodian in mismatched armour — drove past the line just a few inches before I did and the time went to him. 

I cursed in my seat and pushed my bike a few feet forward on direction of one of the coordinators making hand signals on the top of the track. Every racer got to run as many times as they liked, but special privilege was given to the ones placing in the first few top runs. Since this was my first run I hadn't qualified yet to get a seat right in front of the queue of racers, which would have let me boost with the accelerator and beat everyone's speed regardless of their riders’ skills, but my current time was good enough to at least place me in the front half of the first quarter of racers. We waited for the rest to finish the lap and decide if they wanted to try again or leave the track. A few minutes later, we were off again. 

I should say at this point that none of this was happening at the speed with which I am detailing the race. I barely had time to process half of what was going on, though time and conversation with Carth and Mission on what they saw that day gave me a completely different perspective. What I was aware of was the sounds. Roars of differently styled engines, each with its own pitch rose and fell as the bikes passed one another. Above it the riders’ ululating calls and taunts rose just below the deafening thunder of the crowd around us as they watched the saga unfold on gigantic screens above the actual tracks. And the only other thing that registered were the smells; every time we passed an exhaust vent my nose would wrinkle with a memory of the sewers we had trudged through to get here. Exhaust fumes spread across the track in mere minutes like a noxious cloud of warm dense air. I had a gas mask on before I ran the second race, already coughing in little fits each time I passed behind a speeder. 

Despite that, by the fourth run — I'd placed third and first in the last two races — I was starting to feel the bike heating up underneath my seat. I knew I was only one or two more races from losing my bike, and I couldn't shake the image of the scoreboard past my head. 

Points were tallied on a per-run basis but the goal was to get the least time over all races. I was third right now, but even if I finished first again I would have no luck in getting Bastila. I needed to beat the first person's _time_. And so far — apart from my last narrow win — the Rodian I had raced against in the first match had beaten all of my times. 

But I had my final trick up my sleeve, and for the first time in the race I was ready to actually use it. My score had earned me a spot in the front row, which meant I could use the accelerator without worrying about clipping into another rider and liquifying my bones. And the second the light switched to green and the bell pealed, I twisted the dial on the bike and turned the accelerator on. 

 _This_ must be what it is like to ride a spaceship without all the contraptions. I felt the wind tear at the tiny parts of my exposed face painfully. My eyes were streaming underneath the goggles from my mask. The tunnel around me formed one dangerous long line of dashes and dots. I didn't veer off center too much — any incorrect angle shift could have sent me careening into the wall — but I smoothly navigated around the obstacles on the track. Even when I did hit a pile of debris, I blew right past it so quickly that I barely noticed. 

Everything else around me — sound, smell, even thought — vanished as my speeder flew past the track. I vaguely heard a dull roar as a colourful display of lights flashed in front of me, indicating that I was almost at the finish line. 

My fingers tightened around the handlebars in anticipation. A quick glance at the mirror in front showed me my Rodian adversary bearing down on me with purpose. My breathing stalled and I had to force myself to inhale and exhale underneath the gas mask. I had assumed that if I made a run with the accelerator that no one would be able to match my time, but I knew instantly that if the Rodian rode again without me to trip him up, he could easily reach my score. And I could feel the scorching metal through the thin material of the speeder bike seat; I was not going to be able to make another run on this rust bucket. 

As my bike sped through the end of the track and past the line that designated the track from the end, I realised that if this was only for my pride, I could have just as easily taken that score and left with it. With my experience and know-how, I was honestly amazed I had even gotten this far without riding into a wall. 

But this was not just for a medal. I didn’t take this race for a personal achievement. And I needed Bastila in order to get off the backwater reject that was the planet Taris. 

I grinned at the sound of the horns blaring as I crossed the line, announcing that a new record had been set. Even as my bike slowed I turned it around in a semicircle, taking just long enough to ensure it was lined up correctly. I loosened my feet from the footholds on the bike and somersaulted off the back as it sped through in a straight line in the direction of the other racers. My hand burned sharply from its quick brush over the back of the speeder bike as I flipped over it. 

I deserved at least that much, especially for what I was trying to do. 

The Rodian shrieked in terror but he was too close to move in any helpful direction. My bike caught on a piece of debris and flipped over, careening into both the Rodian and another racer behind him. At that speed, the collision was immense and they both died on impact. 

Several other racers slowed down behind the remains, veering madly out of the way of flying debris. Metal shrieked as it was torn apart, loudly echoing over the roar of the crowd. I quickly found a foothold on the side of the track and jumped up onto the platform with a little difficulty, favouring my burned hand. Almost everyone on the platform was over on the other end, looking at the destruction on the track. 

I felt the rush of air as a speeder swooped past me, and one or two others followed. They had carefully navigated through the debris but most other riders weren't so lucky and there were a few more crashes as I lifted myself onto my knees on the platform. The commentator ran over to me and helped me stand up. 

“Nice trick with the bike,” he muttered, impressed, “No one's gonna beat that time now.” 

I watched the scoreboard shift as it calculated all the times of the finished track. The letters of the first line sped through the alphabet while the totals were calculated and finally spelled out the pseudonym the Hidden Bek Race Master had given me. 

“Mysterious Stranger in the lead!” A voice roared loudly over the comms. Gadon Thek’s Race Master hadn't exactly cared to think of an original name. 

The crowd cheered and booed. I walked to the side and sat down slowly as the Duros explained that I still had to wait until the end of the full race before they announced me as the winner. Technically if someone beat my time the prize would go to them. He congratulated me again for getting rid of the only real competition I had, saying I should be proud of my accomplishment. 

“I've never seen anyone more ruthless than since Bendak Starkiller joined the arena on the upper levels,” he crowed happily.

I felt sick to my stomach. Pain was shooting up my arms from the burn on my hand and when I closed my eyes I could see the Rodian's eyes grow wide underneath his mask, his hands scraping the bars on his bike to turn quickly but ultimately failing. 

After a few failed attempts at getting me to respond, the Duros ran back to his station at the signal that the track had cleared and the next race was to start while I held a quickly melting ice pack over my injured hand. Both the Race Master and the announcer had failed to mention that I needed to bring healing supplies with me onto the track. 

While the Duros went to announce the next few races I leaned back against the wall and took in the rest of the platform. Bastila was off to the side, imprisoned behind a static cage, mostly hidden from view by two large, hulking guards that stood in front of the cage. Brejik must have had to dose her with a heavy sedative to stop her from breaking free. Even with the measures Brejik had taken, Bastila’s two guards turned every now and then to make sure she was not trying something, gripping their weapons tightly each time they did so. 

The turnout for the next few heats was abysmal and by the third run everyone had realised the time the accelerator had gotten me was too short to beat. The crowd booed loudly as the Duros claimed me the winner when no one had shown up for the fourth run. I couldn't blame them; they had expected more of a show. 

The Duros grabbed my burnt hand and I grimaced as he held it high in front of a roaring crowd — this loading area had no roof and was open for the crowd to see — and placed a medal over my neck. 

“And the reward,” the announcer said, his voice booming into the mic. The two guards in front of Bastila raised their weapons — one held a gun and the other an electric pike of some sort — and keyed in the code to release the electric field. 

Before the field shimmered down, a human male ran in front of the cage, gun held out and a scowl on his face. “Hold it right there,” he snapped, pointing the gun at me, “or I'll shoot. This racer's a lousy cheater. She used an accelerator to win that she stole from _me_ and killed all of my racers. You don't deserve this reward, and I'll have you dead before you get it.” 

The Duros announcer shrieked and pointed the end of a long digit at the man. “Brejik! You can't do that! Rules is rules, and she won!” His complaint died out as he stared at the smoking hole in his chest. The alien shuddered, long digits drooping, and dropped to his knees before faceplanting to the ground, lifeless.The crowd had been too stunned to silence by the echoing sound of the shot to even react to the clatter of the announcer's mic against the ground. Feedback echoed through the speakers until it raised a cacophony of sound over the system. 

Brejik shot the mic, and the sounds stopped as the receiver cut out. He shifted his arm to point at me and glared over the smoking barrel of his gun. “Now I take care of you,” he snarled. 

Before I could do anything Brejik jerked back suddenly, a shot echoing loudly in the arena as he pulled the trigger in surprise. It flew harmlessly wide and bore a hole in the wall twenty feet to my side. Bastila emerged behind him, arm wrapped around his throat, “No one's taking me for a prize,” she said, eyes blazing in anger. The two guards turned to shoot at her and I acted quickly, grabbing the medal off my neck and throwing it at one to distract him while I jumped at the other, grabbing his pike and pulling it out of his loose grip. I twirled the staff and struck him across the temple, pushing him back off the platform and onto the track below. The second one recovered but Bastila had kicked his gun out of his hands, still choking a struggling Brejik with one arm. I slammed the electric end of the pike into Brejik's chest and he shuddered as the current ran through his body. Bastila let go of him and knocked the other guard out faster than I could follow. 

Brejik crumpled to the ground, dead, and I stood back up, tossing the pike away and grinning at Bastila, “We're a good team,” I said, stopping in my tracks almost immediately once I got a good look at her face. 

Since Taris I've come across more coincidences and odd happenings than I could count, but at that time it was something I could barely fathom. I was standing in front of the woman I had dreamt about several days earlier, down to the last detail. Her hair was slightly longer, and her tired eyes had bags underneath them, but I had no doubt that it was the same person. With a speed faster than I could follow, Bastila grabbed the pike before it hit the ground and held the business end against my throat, “If you think to take me for a prize, you’ll meet the same end as your friend here,” she snarled. It took me a second to realise the predicament I was in, and I yelled as her thumb hovered over the current switch, pushing the staff away from me. Her hold was strong.

“I'm … here to ... help,” I choked over the staff. I took a deep breath and with a final wrench I pulled it from her grasp and tossed it into the track. An arc of electricity sparked from the end of the pike and danced across the track to the guard trying to lift himself out onto the platform. He screamed loudly and fell back down. 

Bastila looked at me like she was seeing a ghost. There was something akin to recognition in her eyes, but if I hoped that would solve anything, I was wrong. It only seemed to make her more confused. She mouthed something wordlessly, her gaze slipping between me to the pike I threw onto the track. I was still a little shocked by how much younger she was than I was expecting. When Carth had said we needed a Jedi to help us get off Taris, she was definitely not what had come to mind. 

“My name is Yevana Mar,” I said, stepping back and showing her my empty hands to say that I was no threat. “My friends and I are here to rescue you.” 

I cannot imagine what was running through her head at the moment when I stepped forward and noticed the recognition in her eyes. Bastila muttered my name after I introduced myself and there was a brief moment of relief in her expression. 

I started to say more about my impromptu team and our plan to save her, but Bastila cut me off before I could continue, her shock replaced by anger, “Rescue? Rescue! I am not some princess for you to go and save! If you hadn't noticed, _I_ freed myself from that cage and _I_ took care of those men while you danced around with that stick. Now you listen here-” 

“I'm with Carth Onasi!” I snapped in a furious whisper, vaguely aware that a crowd had finally begun to form and the edges of the platform. Most of them were calling to the now-deceased Brejik, which I didn't take as a good sign. 

The message finally seemed to get through to Bastila. Relief flooded her face, “Carth? So he's alive then? That's good, that's very good. You said you're with him? Wait, yes, I remember you from the Endar Spire. I'm surprised he isn't here himself. Why were you in charge of this shoddy attempt to get me out of here?” 

“Shoddy? I won an entire race to get you back!” 

“Might I remind you that I was in a cage and _I_ got myself out,” she started again. 

“Look, I don't have time for this,” I said, finally losing my patience. “We're going to go see Carth and then after that we'll-” 

I went to grab her wrist, ans I don't quite remember if I ever finished my sentence. My fingers encircled the bare skin of Bastila Shan's wrist with the intent of dragging her off the platform by force if I had to. 

And then everything went black.

 

* * *

 

 _Strikes._  

 _Each strike brings her closer to her goal. She finds relief in the rhythmic buzz and blur of the weapon in her hand as it strikes true to its target._  

 _Something falls to the ground in front of her, she hears the thuds of several things falling around her, hears the buzz of her companions’ weapons as they ready their weapons to fight alongside her._  

 _But her eyes are fixated on the robed figure in front of her, standing calmly amongst the chaos, arms crossed and no weapon bared, as if she is a mere joke and not even worth attention._  

 _Irritation flares — very unbecoming of a Jedi, yet she feels the emotion nonetheless. She brings her blade behind her in a ready stance, lifting her hand in front of her and pointing at the figure in front of her. Words, her words, echo off the silence of the bridge as the floor shakes and rumbles beneath them._  

 _“You will never win, Revan.”_  

 

* * *

 

I awoke in the room of our borrowed apartment. Something heavy was tightly wrapped around one hand and I distinctly remember the feel of being covered by a thin scratchy blanket. My eyes searched around in confusion as I tried to remember where I was. With a jolt I sat up and looked around, horror growing at the realisation that I did not have any idea how I had gotten here. 

I shakily threw the blanket off my legs and lifted them off the couch and onto the floor. At once Carth, Mission and Zaalbar appeared at the edge of the couch. 

Carth heaved a sigh of relief, “We were worried when you passed out back there at the race. But your vitals are good and you're awake, and that’s what matters.” Mission grinned as Zaalbar roared a greeting. “Man you really musta been tired. It’s been hours since we dragged you back up here,” she said. 

Carth looked at me as though he wasn’t sure if he should be happy or extremely worried. “You are feeling okay?” he asked. Mission wrapped an arm around me as I felt my legs shake a bit. 

“What-” my voice was raw, and my throat hurt. Carth stepped back and quickly walked over to the sink, grabbing a cup and rinsing it under water. “We got Bastila,” he said over his shoulder, “We found the other soldiers. Now all we have to do is find a way off this planet.” He made it sound so easy, so simple. “Bastila can tell us how we'll get out of the Sith blockade.” 

“Bastila?” I frowned at Carth as memories of the race flooded back. I remembered the girl I'd saved. “She's a child! All this time you talked about some great Jedi about to win the war — I thought we were going to get an experienced leader.” 

“She's a Jedi,” Carth said, as if that explained everything. “She'll know what to do. I trust her.” 

“No, she's a _kid_ . And stupid enough to be caught by Brejik. Did you _see_ him? He barely had two brain cells to rub together. How'd he capture her if she's such a great Jedi?” 

“There has to be an explanation and I'm sure if we let her explain it to us, we wouldn't be standing here discussing this.” 

Mission, still keeping me standing, glared somewhere at the area behind Zaalbar and put in her own opinion, “She wanted to leave my friend to die after she risked her life to save her. Some Jedi.” 

“She what?” I asked hoarsely. I shot Carth a betrayed look as confusion ran through my mind, unable to fathom what Mission was trying to say. 

Carth shook his head and studiously stared at the empty cup he was wiping dry. I heard a soft drip as the smell of caf slowly filled the air. “It was probably just a small misunderstanding. Bastila didn't mean anything by it. Jedi work in their own way,” he added. 

“She's got to be the worst Jedi I've ever heard of!” Mission said at the same time that I snapped, “Well in my experience, Jedi are all assholes. We're better off without them.” Carth glared at me. 

“You told her I was a Jedi?” A soft voice sounded from the other side of the room. A small, dark-haired young woman — just a girl really — slowly walked into my field of vision. Bastila seemed worn and tired, but it struck me how young she really was. I had to have at least ten years or more on the girl. This was the Republic's salvation? 

Carth had turned and was explaining something about Mission finding Bastila's lightsaber in Brejik's bag after they ran over to find me unconscious. I carefully unwrapped the medpak from my hand. 

“Did you try to leave me with the Black Vulkars?” I asked, keeping my eyes trained on my hand. I flexed my fingers, checking for any scars. There were none. 

Bastila was silent for a moment. “They offered to let us go without harm if we gave you to them-” 

“To kill,” Mission cut in angrily. 

“-as compensation. You did kill their leader. And I heard something about an attack on their base as well.” 

“I did that to save you,” I said. I turned to Carth and pointed to Bastila “Are you serious?” I asked him as he walked over to us, two cups of steaming caf in his hands. “This _child_ is what we've come all this way to save? She's barely old enough to be a soldier let alone a Jedi. I'm not taking orders from her.” Carth handed me a small cup of caf that I sipped gratefully from. 

“Look, I know you're not used to the way the Republic does things, but I've worked with her before. I trust her with my life.” Carth said at the same time that Bastila snapped, “You did a piss-poor job of saving me then. You blew up an enemy base with no prompting and almost started a turf war after publicly plastering your face on every Tarisian screen — and many more within the Republic. Even if Malak didn't have you on his radar before you can be certain he'll be watching you closely.” Bastila crossed her arms and frowned at Carth, “I disagree entirely with your decision to let her run the race.” 

“It was my decision, thanks.” My voice was stronger now, clearer. I strode over to the singular table, now covered in ration paks and datapads, and slammed my mug onto it. “Everything we did since we got here was to set you free. You could be a little more thankful you know.” 

“Your decision?” Bastila's eyes narrowed. It seemed almost like she only ever heard what she felt like hearing at the time. 

“Carth didn't tell you he thought I was part of some secret Jedi plan to keep you alive?” I asked innocently. 

“And I take it you never thought to correct him?” She snarled back. 

I walked close by her. We were similar enough in height that she didn't have to crane her neck to look me in the eye the way she did with Carth. “Ask him yourself,” I said softly. Carth stepped in, pushing both of us a few feet apart. 

“Whatever the reason, I gave her the reigns and she freed you Bastila,” he said reluctantly, sending me a look that made me think this conversation wasn’t over. “We wouldn't be here without her.” 

“Oddly coincidental then,” she said. 

“Just like you leaving me behind with the Black Vulkars?” I asked. We still hadn't stopped glaring at each other. There was a tension in the air I could almost reach out and feel. I wasn't sure if it was a combination of my overactive imagination and the kolto still running through my veins, or just extreme tiredness, but I almost thought I could see Bastila's skin grow faintly for a few seconds. 

“Look that's enough,” Carth clapped his hands together in the space between us, the sharp noise bringing us both out of our trance. 

“I don't care what your issues are, you both gotta work it out as we go along,” Carth said. 

“Well why don't we start by telling random Tarisian citizens every detail of our _secret_ mission.” Bastila jerked her head in the direction of Mission and Zaalbar. 

“Lady I was the one that picked up your dumb glow stick from Brejik's bag after Eva saved you,” the Twi'lek growled. 

“Why did he have your lightsaber?” I asked Bastila. “I want to know exactly how a Jedi like you got captured. Carth evaded the Sith the whole time and I was knocked out. How'd you get caught by some third-rate criminal when you had your lightsaber on you?” 

“That is _none_ of your business,” she snapped in response. Bastila drew herself up, “Not that it matters but they caught me by surprise.” 

“Wait, you were awake?” Carth asked, “How'd they catch you then? A few criminals like that couldn't have been a problem for you. I've fought with you before.” 

Bastila's face flushed red. As innocent as the intent of Carth's question was, she was taking full offense. 

“My lightsaber just must have rolled under my seat. I was just trying to see where it was-” 

“Hold on,” Carth said incredulously, shocked enough to interrupt her. “Bastila did you lose your lightsaber?” 

“I did not!” Her face flushed an even deeper, angrier red. “How dare you insinuate-” 

“I don't think there was a need to insinuate anything,” I said, crossing my arms. Mission threw her head back and cawed with laughter. Even Zaalbar — who had remained largely silent throughout this — snorted. Carth was doing his best not to laugh, but he couldn't keep the mirth out of his tone, “Bastila we all make mistakes,” he said gently, “Yours was a bit costly it's just … I'm sorry, what happened was horrible but ... I thought the Jedi treated those things like their lifelines.” 

“I need to shower,” Bastila said coldly. She shoved past me and slammed the door, ignoring us as we called out after her. A few minutes later we heard water rattle noisily against the metal showerbox on the other side. 

Carth sighed. “You really ought to be less harsh on her, you know.” 

“Me?” My jaw dropped, “You brought up the lightsaber.” 

“I mean about this whole thing. Sure, maybe we've got a decade or so on her, but the Jedi wouldn't entrust the fate of the galaxy to someone that wasn't ready.” He glanced over to the bed. Bastila had made a small neat section for her belongings. Her lightsaber poked out underneath a pale yellow shirt. “They were ready to go to war to ensure that didn't happen the first time,” he added darkly. “Revan paid the price and Malak will too.” 

“Okay,” I said, “let's first just think about how we're getting out of here. If Malak saw me save her—” 

“Most people think you were killed by Brejik. They saw you fall down after fighting him. Cameras cut out a little bit after.” He shot me a worried glance, “This seems to be pretty common. Is it medical?” 

“I don't know,” I said, frustrated. The image of Bastila in my mind played over and over. Her details were much too sharp for some misplaced dream. I could understand the strange dream I'd had just before I woke up minutes ago. Seeing Bastila and fighting alongside her definitely could have placed that scene in my subconscious. But how could I explain seeing her in my dreams _before_ we'd even met? A calm, logical voice whispered that I must have seen her somewhere on the Endar Spire. It watch a big ship and she was important. Even if I didn't directly remember it, we must have walked by each other or something. But I think even then a part of me sensed that wasn't the whole truth. 

“Well he knows she's free and he knows she's working with someone. If I were Malak I don't know that I'd leave things to chance anymore. Now that she’s free, he’s probably sent out the best of his army. It's not going to be easier just because she's here.” 

Carth shrugged, “It just means we know we're going the right way.” 

“Carth, I don't know how they do things in the military but I don't consider having multiple assholes continuously trying to kill me a good sign of anything,” I said, rummaging through the datapads laid out on the table. They'd been looking for blindspots on the Taris flight route. I saw a few illicit ads for ships listed on one datapad. 

“No way we're getting this kind of money,” I muttered, waving the datapad at Carth. He took it from me and frowned before speaking. 

“That's the least of our worries. We can't go anywhere with that Sith blockade.” 

“Well we don't have a way of doing that from the planet. Unless you're suggesting we go into their base and somehow commandeer one of their own ships.” 

Carth gave me a look that had me violently shaking my head, “That was a joke. We're not doing that.” 

“I don't know what other option there is.” 

“Finding a ship for a decent price shouldn't be hard if you know any decent merchants down in the Lower City,” Mission added, “which I do.” 

“We had this conversation while you were out,” Carth explained. “Bastila thinks if we get a fast enough ship we can outrun the blockade. Her Force ability is supposed to help in a situation like this.” 

“Unless her Force ability is bringing down cruisers with a look, including whatever in space Malak has, I'm not sure how that will help us. You're a pilot Carth, this isn't something we would've attempted in our wildest dreams of we had a choice.” 

“We don't seem to have one,” he shrugged, “I'll say it's a chance to prove our skills, how about that?” 

I frowned at him. Mission and Zaalbar had gotten comfortable on the couch and were discussing which dealers they could trust to get us a half decent ship. I leaned back against the table and cradled the cup of caf in both hands. 

“You trust her that much?” I muttered, doing my best to keep the conversation out of Mission and Zaalbar's notice. Carth dragged one of the chairs to my left and sat beside me, facing the table and occasionally looking at a datapad, the bright blue screen shining off his face for a few seconds before he switched to another one. 

“I worked with her several times. I'm not saying she's easy to get along with,” he sent me a poignant look, “but she's a good person with a good heart. She means well even if she doesn't know how to articulate it.” He paused for a moment, then added, “What Mission said was true but I don't think Bastila really meant to just leave you there to die. She must've had a plan. 

“I really think you need to give her a chance. If we get out of this at all, it's by working together like a team, the way we've been doing so far. The Sith will spot any issue in our group and exploit it. We all have the same goal of getting off Taris don't we?” 

Sipping bitter caf in an old dilapidated apartment on a planet I didn't want to be on, it was hard not to see the wisdom of Carth's words. Whatever Bastila had done or tried to do, I was here alive, and that gut feeling I had that we couldn't stay on Taris much longer was growing stronger. The shower door opened and Bastila slowly walked out, her dark hair framing her face in tight, wet ringlets. Before I could open my mouth, Bastila addressed the room. “We have much to discuss. I would prefer to do it privately.” Her eyes locked on mine. 

Carth stood up immediately. “Mission, Zaalbar, I think we should go look at that place down by the cantina that had the Tarisian special.” 

“I don't want to leave-” Mission started to voice her concern for me but her words died as she looked at Carth's face. He sent me an assuring glance and pushed my other two companions to the front door. Zaalbar seemed fine with leaving but Mission sent me a glance before looking. I nodded and sent her a reassuring look. The sweet Twi’lek smiled faintly and turned into the hallway. She really was growing on me. 

“We'll be back,” Carth grunted before shutting the door behind them. 

They left a wake of awkward silence. I dragged my eyes from my cup of caf to stare at Bastila's face, and we both began to talk at the same time. 

“I just wanted to say I'm sorry-” 

“I've been too harsh on you and I shouldn't-” 

We paused, then both started up again. Bastila finally held up a hand and spoke. 

“I misjudged you. You did your best given the circumstances and I let my pride get in the way of acknowledging your hard work. Without you I'd probably be the prized possession of some idiot slaver gang. I owe you my thanks.” 

Her apology was more sincere than I was expecting. “Bastila,” I said, taken aback, “I appreciate it. I didn't mean to get so defensive about our work to get you but it's been a rough few days. Which, I'm sure you know,” I added quickly. 

She smiled at me and moved to sit down at the table. 

“Now,” she said, arranging the table and clearing off a good chunk of the datapads, “Carth told me what happened on the Endar Spire. He also went over what you told him of your escape as well. Not that I mistrust either of you,” she said delicately, clearly trying to navigate a situation that was over her head, “but sometimes important details get missed. I would greatly appreciate if you could relay your tale. And leave no detail out.” 

“Of course.” I turned a chair to face her and sat down, finishing the last of my caf and setting the cup down on the table. 

I told her everything. From my daily tasks on the ship to waking up to Trask running in the room. I didn't leave out the part of leaving him behind, or the Sith that had attacked us. Bastila was very intent on my description of the Sith and our personal encounter. I'd thought it inconsequential that he'd tried to hold me with the Force since he had been weak enough that I escaped with little issue. Bastila's worried expression told me there was more to it than that, and I found myself second guessing everything that had happened since then. 

I detailed our Taris trip to Bastila who nodded encouragingly. My take can't have differed much from Carth's at that point, except for the last few hours. 

“The girl seems to have taken great interest in your well-being.” Bastila looked at the door and I glanced over, expecting to see them enter again. It remained closed. 

“I saved her friend. The Wookie, Zaalbar. I guess he owes me a life-debt now.” 

“That’s a rare thing,” Bastila said, watching me. I shrugged, “It probably wasn’t a normal situation. Sith on Taris?” 

“Hm.” She seemed lost in thought for a moment before changing the topic. “You've lost consciousness several times then. Is it medical?” 

“No.” I wondered if I should explain the dreams to her. I hadn't mentioned it for either black-out. 

“Interesting,” she said, eyes drawn to the table in thought. “Are you conscious at all during these episodes? Maybe seeing things? Dreams?” 

Her voice was deceptively casual but her eyes cut through the table like daggers. I dropped my gaze and studied the worn markings on the palm of my hand. 

“It's nothing important.” 

“You said you'd tell me every detail,” her voice was almost blatantly accusatory. 

“Alright. Fine. I had a few weird dreams. You were in both of them I guess. Except I didn't know who you were the first time. It must have just been from some subconscious memory of having seen you in the 'Spire.” 

“What was I doing?” 

I looked back up. Bastila was staring at me intently. I remember the feeling of being subjected to a very large, invisible microscope at the moment and wondering if Jedi could read minds. 

I slowly explained her role in my dreams, watching her grow more and more troubled with each passing detail. Finally she let out a long breath once I'd exhausted every inch of my memory to countless probing questions from her. 

“It's happening.” She glanced at me quickly and stuttered, “Hu-happened. I mean.” 

“What's wrong with me?” I asked, “And why in all the bloody galaxy are you acting like I'm your worst nightmare come to pass?” 

She shot me an insulted look. “First of all, nothing is _wrong_. This is perfectly normal, and we Jedi are trained to deal with it all the time.” 

“Deal with what?” 

“Sometimes when someone has more than a modicum of Force sensitivity, coming into contact with a Force sensitive can jog certain things into place for them. Memories, tricks, various uses that the Force sometimes presents itself in. It's been well documented in the past. Usually it doesn't present itself as a problem so long as the Force sensitives aren't near these people for too long.” 

“Okay,” I said, “where do I fit in?” 

Bastila looked as if I was dragging the answer out from her by use of long, torturous screaming. 

“You're clearly a Force sensitive. You wouldn't have gotten away from the Sith if not. And it explains your luck with the race. Carth was sure you weren't lying about never racing before. And your effectiveness at passing all the obstacles to get through to your objective.” 

“That's a little derogatory to non-Force sensitives.” 

“It usually tends to manifest itself in other ways,” she continued, ignoring me. “Little tricks like turning a room cold, or always catching things from an insane trajectory. Or being really good at shooting.” 

“None of that really sounds like me,” I said truthfully. 

“Whatever it is, I think what little part of the Force you can unintentionally reach out to connected with me and you were able to see some of my most prominent memories.” 

“Memories? Those were your memories?” 

“It was when I defeated the Dark Lord Revan. Everything you describe is as it happened. The bridge on the ship. The others. Revan. My attacks. You have it all down.” 

“Why would it show me _your_ memories,” I asked irritably, “that makes no sense! Why couldn't it show me _mine_? Do you even know what you're talking about?” 

Bastila frowned. “The Force works in mysterious ways. As I said, it manifests differently in different people. Carth mentioned your...amnesia. I assume there was nothing in your past to remember.” 

“Well, can I learn to use it to see my own memories?” I remember feeling a spark of hope for the first time in months at the thought of repairing my damaged brain. 

“That's not what the Force is used for!” She snapped, bursting the bubble of hope that had risen. “Honestly, I tried to work with you but this whole thing is ridiculous. I will not remain here to be made a mockery of.” 

I opened my mouth to retort but a loud knock sounded outside our door before I could. The door opened to admit Mission strolling in with Zaalbar, tailed behind by Carth. He caught both of our glances and shrugged guiltily. 

Mission came over and dropped a small bag on the table. “Turns out the Tarisian Special is about as special as whatever they make in the Under City.” I gagged at the smell. “I think they were honestly surprised someone was buying it,” Mission said, “so they gave us extra.” I glanced at Bastila to see a similar expression on her face. “I'll take care of it,” I muttered quickly and grabbed the bag, running out of the suite as quickly as I could. There was no way I was going to leave it inside our place. I searched around for some garbage deposit of some sort. 

I had finally found a chute and tossed the offending bag when a voice called out behind me in an easy tone. “Su cuy’gar.” 

I recognised the phrase; a standard Mandalorian greeting. Shutting the lid tightly on the duct, I turned and stood up slowly when I recognised him. It was the man we'd met down in the Under City. Ordo. 

He had no visible mandalorian armour to speak of; I had no idea that they moved anywhere without it. Ordo slung his gun casually over his shoulder and coming to stand in front of me. 

“Yeah,” I said shakily, “so are you.” 

Ordo chuckled. “Name’s Canderous. Formerly of Clan Ordo. When I saw you down in those slums, I thought for sure there would be two more rakghouls for me to clean up the next time I went down there. What do I know, barely a day later and you’re killing the Black Vulkar leader on screen. I was impressed. Very impressed.” 

“Thanks,” I said. I surveyed the empty hallway around us. He didn't have any friends that I could see. “How'd you find me?” 

“Oh,” he jerked his head in the direction of my apartment. “I saw your friends leaving some third-rate cantina up here a little while ago. Figured they'd lead me straight to you.” 

“You were looking for me?” 

“Of course.” He held out a datapad. “I've got something you and your friends are going to be very interested in.” 

It was going to have to be incredibly interesting to impress Carth and Bastila. “And what is that?” 

“Ah ah ah.” He shook the datapad, “We're about to enter a deal. That deserves a round of ale and some serious conversation, don't you think?” 

“I appreciate it,” I started, “but really I think my freelance work on Taris is done. I'm sure there are other bounty hunters you can contact for-” 

“I only need you.” His gaze bored into me. “And you'll be interested in this 'freelance job’. It comes with a ship and a way off this backwater dung heap.” 

I'll admit I was impressed by his conviction. My curiosity got the better of me. “All I have's shitty coffee,” I offered. Canderous thought about it for a moment and shrugged, “That'll do,” he replied. “But you'll owe me a drink.” 

“This works out and we get off planet? I'll buy you a whole damned bar.” 

Canderous grinned at me, “Careful what promises you make to a Mandalorian.” 

“We'll make it a drink,” I amended. He laughed and followed me as I turned back to the small suite we’d been staying at. “Everyone,” I said, gesturing to the man behind me, “this is Canderous. Of Clan Ordo. He has an offer for us that he'd like to discuss.” 

“Mandalorian!” Carth had his gun out, the barrel pointed straight at the other man's head. Bastila quickly got a hold of his arm and pulled him away to the other side of the table. He didn't drop his arm. 

Canderous sighed and walked up to the table like a man with a death wish. “Might as well hold the coffee for now, haven’t got the time.” he told me, placing the datapad on my table. “I came here because you look like a woman who doesn't mind how the job's done, as long as it's done,” he said, addressing me. Carth spat something in response but he ignored him and continued talking to me. 

“Rescue that public, the Sith'll be all over you in a matter of a day or so. I bet your captive here is the reason they're on Taris in the first place. So you'll be looking for a way out of the Sith blockade.” He pointed to the datapad. “Lucky for you, I know a way. Those IDs will get you my second main bargaining chip in this discussion.” He held his arm out in front of him and pressed down on his comlog. A holo of a map of the Tarisian Upper City shimmered into view a few inches above his hand, casting a blue oceanic glow over his face. “You're here,” he pointed to a location on the map. “There's a shop here that sells droid parts exclusively. Once you get here, give the owner this,” he nodded at the datapad, “and she'll give you a droid. Sold only to Davik Kang’s associate. Which you now are.” 

“Wait, wait. You want me to steal a droid from Davik Kang?” 

“More like borrow. Those codes were given to me to get the droid, but I can't bring it anywhere near the Sith base without Davik getting suspicious. He's got the whole base heavily watched. But he doesn't know what the droid's going to look like, and he doesn't know who you are, so you can bring it to the base without issue.” 

“Why the base?” 

“I'm getting to that, woman,” he growled. His holo shimmered to a view of what I assumed was Taris from space; large, colourless spherical shape surrounded by large and small red dots surrounded the air between us. “The blockade,” he explained. “They've got tons of ships patrolling the routes to and from Taris. But they let their own go through. That base on the Upper City will be the key. If we go there and download their identifier, we should be able to punch through their lines without issue. By the time they notice,” the man chuckled, “we'll be well out of their hair.” 

“Where are we going to get a ship that's that fast?” I asked. 

Canderous grinned, “Ships, my employer's got enough to spare. Fast ships? My employer's got one of the best. He's not much of a sharing man though so we'll have to infiltrate his base and take it.” 

“Seems well planned out for a _Mando_ ,” Carth snarled. Bastila had convinced him to drop the gun but his knuckles were white from gripping it so tightly. I was afraid he was going to shoot himself accidentally. 

“I've been wanting to get out for a while. Don't much care for Sith. And you seemed resourceful enough.” 

“Yevana Mar,” I said, realising we hadn’t properly introduced ourselves. “There’s Carth, Bastila, Mission and Zaalbar,” I added, gesturing to each one. Carth didn’t seem too happy to have his name in Canderous’ possession, but the others nodded politely. 

Canderous inclined his head at each of my companions, “One warrior to another, this is your best way off the planet.” 

Carth snorted, “Like we'd trust a Mando. Last time we did, they snuck in like cowards and tried to stab us in the back.” 

“Couldn't stop us until your Revan came along.” 

The room went deadly silent. Canderous was standing calmly beside me but Carth's finger traced the barrel of his gun, as if he was still trying to convince himself not to use it. 

“While you discuss your feelings,” Canderous said in a low voice, turning back to me and inclining his head, “I'll be in the Lower City cantina. Come to me when you're done and I'll take you to Davik.” 

“There's no way in Space we'll join forces with you!” Carth snapped. 

Canderous shrugged and walked out of the apartment door after sending me a knowing glance.

 

* * *

 

The room was silent for a bit. Mission cleared her throat, “He doesn't seem as mean as the Mandalorians that were here a few years ago.” 

“Carth,” I started, already knowing the backlash I was going to get, “we needed an in. That's our way in.” 

“So … so we take the droid. Get the IDs. Find someone else to get a ship from. Problem solved.” 

Zaalbar roared in disagreement and Mission nodded at him. “Z's right. It won't be faster than Davik's. He made a big deal about it when he got that thing. It's supposed to be super fast. And the security on it is insane. We'd need an in, like Canderous.” 

Carth looked between us in surprise, searching for some form of support that he couldn't find. He finally turned to Bastila. “You're okay with this? With working for the _enemy_?” 

“Carth,” I said, as gently as I could, “they're not the enemy anymore. Our very real enemy is patrolling the skies and streets right now looking for us. And if they weren't on full alert before, they sure are now. I've just ... I've just got a feeling that we won't make it out of here if we wait too long.” 

Carth frowned and looked at Bastila again, who gave me a sharp look. “A feeling?” She asked. 

“I can't really explain it.” I thought about our conversation earlier, “Can this be how … it … manifests?” 

Bastila nodded slowly. “And you have no qualms working with a Mandalorian? You must have some feeling towards them. Anger? Hatred?” 

I shook my head and laughed, “I spent most of the 'War the way I spent the most of my life. Outside the Republic and not caring.” 

“Not caring about the millions of civilians they put in danger?” Carth asked. 

I knew he meant it to sting but I honestly couldn’t think of any loyalty I’d held to the Republic at that moment that would have caused such a strong hatred for the Mandalorians. They’d left me mostly alone in the small dealings I’d had with them, from what I could remember of my past life. 

I shrugged, “You did your job as a soldier. I did mine. I'd sell to whoever had the money for it.” 

Bastila raised a hand and Carth cut off his response, slipping his gun back into its holster with a snarl and turning away to walk over to the other side of the room and rummage through his belongings. The young woman stared at me with narrowed eyes, “So you're okay to work with a Mandalorian?” 

“I'm okay to work with a rakghoul if it gets me out of here,” I said flatly. 

“I think we should trust her instinct,” Bastila said out loud. Mission and Zaalbar echoed their agreements. I could see Carth glaring at me from the corner of my eye but with Bastila's approval we both knew he wouldn't go against it. 

“Let's go get us a droid,” I said, picking up the datapad.


End file.
